Outside Chance
by Gyrus
Summary: When a vampire faster than anything living or dead decides to make Sunnydale her domain, only one Slayer remains to stand in her way. (COMPLETE)
1. Prologue

Title: Outside Chance  
  
Author: Gyrus  
  
Rating: PG-13 (for adult language and violence)  
  
Disclaimer: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER, ANGEL, and associated characters are the creation of Joss Whedon and the property of Fox Television. But hey, if I owned them, there would be no illicit thrill in taking them out for a spin now and then.   
  
Author notes: This story is the third and final installment in a trilogy that began with "Inside" and continued with "Fool Me Twice". I never meant to write a trilogy, but the muse made me.   
  
In any case, the story contains spoilers for every BTVS up through "The Gift". Many thanks to HonorH, Dr. Tamwe, and the lovely DeathBunny for their editorial assistance.   
  
-----  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
  
The Bronze was as full of activity as it ever was. The jukebox blasted techno-industrial dance music as densely-packed male and female bodies twisted and writhed against one another on the dance floor. More crowded around the bar, shouting conversations over the music. A few settled in for make-out sessions in the darker corners, hands grasping hair or wandering over backs.   
  
Only two things distinguished this night from others the Bronze had witnessed over the years. First, it was Sunday, when the Bronze was traditionally closed. Second, Peter Lefrovich, the high school kid who normally swept the place out on Sundays, was not scattering green sweeping powder over the floors as he normally would at this time. Rather, he lay on the bar, stripped to his shorts and held down by strong, cold hands as members of the crowd took turns drinking from his neck, wrists, and thighs.   
  
Peter felt faint from blood loss, but the wooziness didn't take much of the edge off his terror. There were dozens of the yellow-eyed bloodsuckers here, and it looked like every one of them was going to get a turn with him before the night was over.   
  
I'm a human buffet, he thought deliriously.   
  
A man/thing walked up to him, tall, with long, raven hair. The ridges of his forehead intersected with a jagged diagonal scar. The man grabbed Peter's left wrist and bit into it like it was fresh fruit, taking a long, lusty drink. Peter's field of view turned a darker shade of gray.   
  
The man dropped Peter's wrist and shouted to the crowd, "ARE WE HAVIN' FUN OR WHAT?" His voice sounded over the music, and Peter faintly realized that the man was wearing a lapel microphone.   
  
"YEAH!" "WHOOO!" "HELL YES!" called various members of the crowd.   
  
The man held his hand flat in front of his throat; the yellow-eyed thing that was spinning the music switched it off.   
  
"For those of you who don't know me," the man called as he walked up onto the stage, "my name is Lorenzo DeSalva, and I'm the host of this party, which is being held in honor of a very special lady."   
  
Behind DeSalva, two men carried an easel onto the stage, its top half covered with a black cloth. As soon as the two men put the easel down and scurried away, DeSalva yanked off the cloth to reveal a blown-up portrait of a pretty blonde girl. Although he was horizontal and growing ever dizzier, Peter vaguely recognized her; he'd been a freshman at Sunnydale High when this girl was a senior.   
  
"Buffy Summers," DeSalva shouted. "Five years, she turned the Boca del Infierno, the place the hellgods made just for us, into a place for HUMANS. Making us hide in our crypts drinking pig's blood while she staked our children even as they climbed out of the grave. Making our lives a living Heaven.  
  
"But those days are over! We're taking back the night, boys and girls, because Miss Summers here is..." He pulled his fist back and punched a hole through the photograph, right where Buffy's face was . "...out of the picture!"   
  
The crowd went berserk. Screaming, high-fiving, jumping up in the air like maniacs.   
  
"So, as this town's new master vampire, I'm throwing this little party in her honor." More cheering and shrieks of joy started, but someone shouted over them.   
  
"Wait a minute!" yelled a vamp with a dirty-blonde crew cut and a body like a bank vault door. He climbed up onto the stage with DeSalva. "Who died and made you..." He stopped and selected a different phrasing. "I mean, who the hell are you? I don't know you. I bet nobody here knows you. What makes you think you can just walk in and take charge?"  
  
"Well," said DeSalva, "If you don't think I'm qualified...." He raised his fists in invitation.   
  
The big blonde vamp stepped forward and hooked a punch at DeSalva's head. DeSalva ducked as he traversed forward and right. Before the bigger man could recover from his own swing, DeSalva kneed him hard in the groin, then grabbed his hair in one hand and his chin in the other and twisted hard. Peter closed his eyes to the sight, but he still heard the sound, like four or five fresh carrots snapping at once. DeSalva's huge opponent fell to the floor.  
  
"That won't kill ya, of course," DeSalva said, looking down at his fallen challenger. "But I do kinda wonder if anybody cares enough to feed you and scratch your nose for you for the next four months or so."   
  
Then DeSalva looked up at the crowd. "Anybody else wanna look at my resume?" he shouted. Nobody spoke.   
  
Then, from the other end of the room, there came the sound of a single person clapping very slowly. Heads turned; a slim, bleach-blonde vampire stood in the doorway, his long black coat fanning open behind him. Peter thought he looked like an acid-punk guitarist.  
  
"Lovely, mate, just lovely," the vampire said with a smile. "I s'pose next you're gonna tell us that great story about how you did the same thing to Davy Crockett at the Alamo back when you were human."  
  
"Damn right I did," said DeSalva. "What of it?"  
  
"Well, you always leave out part where you explain how you killed Crockett in 1836, even though you didn't get turned until 1958."   
  
"Shut up, Spike," DeSalva snarled. "Nobody believes your bullshit, you human-loving freak."   
  
"Well, nobody else here has met – what was her name? Trixie? – the little blood-whore who turned you for thirty dollars and a carton of Marlboros. Real classy, that. Don't know why you tell everybody that Davy Crockett story when the real one's so compelling."   
  
"You're dust," DeSalva spat. He took a big step down from the stage and strode towards Spike.   
  
"Funny you should put it that way."   
  
Spike took a big step to the left. Behind the place where he had stood, more than a dozen stakes hung in the air, arranged in a neat vertical formation that had been concealed easily behind Spike's coat.   
  
A young, red-haired woman stepped into the entranceway. She waved her hand, and the stakes rearranged themselves into a fan-like horizontal pattern. Her eyes were solid black.  
  
"Madre de dios," DeSalva whispered.   
  
"Vóle!" the girl shouted. The stakes shot forward. Six vampires were struck through the heart and instantly burst into dust; the rest of the stakes missed their primary targets but hit shoulders, stomachs, throats, sending up screams all over the room. One stake even took DeSalva through the thigh; the man fell to the floor and was trampled by the large chunk of the crowd that began to surge towards Spike.   
  
The black-clad vampire plunged in and attacked the first enemy within reach. He jabbed to the face, then kicked to the stomach, pulled a stake from his jacket, and slammed it home. "Who's next?" he shouted gleefully.  
  
A vampire behind Spike broke off a piece of bar rail and prepared to shove it through Spike's back. Before he could strike, the red-headed woman shouted "Ignis incente!" The vampire burst into flames and took off at a run, shrieking. Other vampires knocked one another over trying to keep away from him.   
  
Another human, blonde and female, came in behind the first. She raised her hand; white smoke spewed forth from it and began to fill the room.   
  
Several vamps ran for the back door and pulled it open, only to find themselves staring straight at the points of three loaded crossbow bolts. The vampires at the front of the group were dusted before they even made it through the door. The vamps behind them fell in a heap at the doorway, where a wire had been stretched across it at ankle-height. Before they could get up, the three crossbow-wielders, two men and a woman, fell upon them with stakes.   
  
Inside, most of the vampires were now in a panic. Several tried to run past the witches who stood in the entranceway but struck an invisible barrier and fell back, dazed. Spike staked them all before they could even turn around.   
  
In the smoke and chaos, DeSalva was finally able to get to his feet. While others ran for the doors, he headed for the men's room, with a couple of his followers close behind. With all their strength, they crashed through the frosted-glass window and the grate behind it, falling into the alleyway behind the club. From there, they ran out to the street, down the block, and around the back of the Sun Theater. They huddled behind a Dumpster, looking around nervously to make sure they hadn't been followed.   
  
"Dude, like, who WERE those guys?" one of the hench-vamps asked.   
  
"The dead Slayer's minions," the other one said.   
  
"Whoa, those were some bad-ass minions. No wonder it took a god to finish her off."   
  
"I heard she offed herself."   
  
"Really? Huh. Kinda makes sense, though; I mean, being a Slayer must be totally stressful. You know, like being a cop or a dentist or something."   
  
"A dentist? What are you talking about?"  
  
"No, really, man, I read this article that said being a dentist is like totally-"  
  
"Could you both SHUT UP!" DeSalva shouted. "We have important shit to talk about, here."   
  
"Oh, right."   
  
"Sorry."   
  
"Now," DeSalva said, "tonight was a goddamn disaster. Not only did all our potential followers get dusted, but we don't have a snowball's chance of finding any vampire in this town who'll work with us now. We're gonna have to make our own minions."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Good idea."  
  
"Okay, then. Now what I want you boys to do is-"  
  
"Excuse me," a new voice called.   
  
The three vamps turned to see another vampire, game face on, strolling up to them. She was medium height, with long brown hair, and she wore jeans and a dark blue jacket that might once have been a man's sport coat, though it fit her slim trunk fairly well.   
  
She walked up to DeSalva and asked politely, "Who is the master vampire in this town?"  
  
DeSalva smiled ferally. "You're lookin' at him," he said.   
  
The man's head fell off.   
  
Neither of DeSalva's hench vamps actually saw the woman behead their leader. One moment he was talking to her; the next moment, she had a short sword in her hand, and he was headless.   
  
His body crumbled to dust as they stared, shocked. Finally, one of them regained the power of speech.  
  
"Whoa."   
  
The woman looked up and walked over to him, as casually as when she had first approached their leader.   
  
"Who is the master vampire in this town?" she asked, her tone as polite as before.   
  
He gulped. "Um, you are?"   
  
She smiled. 


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
  
The next morning, the gang met at the Magic Box, as had become their custom after any night of serious slaying. Xander particularly enjoyed these meetings; he called them "after-action debriefings", which made them sound cool and military. Plus, somebody usually brought doughnuts.   
  
Most importantly, though, the meetings gave everyone an excuse to be together and have something to talk about. Apart from the obvious.   
  
Xander and Anya walked through the Magic Shop's front door, which jingled to announce their presence. Willow and Tara were already there, conversing with Giles over a large, open cardboard box.  
  
"This is precisely the sort of carelessness that infuriates me," Giles was saying, looking down into the box with disgust. "I ordered twenty vials of toad powder, and they sent me two hundred. And they forgot my desiccated beetles altogether. What am I to do with two hundred vials of toad powder?"   
  
"Add water and make two hundred toads?" Xander suggested with a smile. "Maybe you can train 'em to catch beetles."   
  
"Yes, very amusing," Giles responded dryly, turning his back on the box. "Well, much as I'd like to discuss the problems inherent in reconstituting a toad, we have the events of last night to discuss."   
  
Everybody sat down around the circular table near the rear of the shop. Xander looked across at Willow and smiled a hello.   
  
She smiled back, but only weakly. Willow looked like death on toast. In contrast to her shiny red hair, her face was the pasty white-gray of dull marble, save for the slightly darker circles under her eyes.   
  
Before anybody could say anything, Xander blurted, "Will, are you OK? You look like Marilyn Manson with a Sterno hangover."   
  
Tara turned her head and gave Willow a "See? I told you," look.   
  
"I'm OK," Willow said feebly. "I think I ate a bad soy burger last night."   
  
Anya spoke up. "Could someone explain to me again about 'health food'? Because I'm pretty sure I don't get it."   
  
"You do look rather peaked," Giles said with concern. "You could lie down for a bit in the training room if you'd like."   
  
"I'm fine," Willow said. "Let's just get all debriefed."   
  
Not her usual wordy self, either, Xander noted to himself.   
  
"All right." Giles turned to Xander and Anya. "How was Peter Lefrovich when you left him at the hospital?"   
  
"Kind of fading in and out, but the docs said he'd be fine," Xander answered.   
  
"They had all the equipment for a transfusion already set up," Anya added. "I guess they do a lot of that."   
  
"Getting a transfusion in this town is like getting an oil change," Xander said. "And if you get ten of 'em, you get a free appendectomy."  
  
Giles gave Xander a look. "And with regard to the vampires..."  
  
"We did pretty well," Tara said.   
  
"Totally," Xander agreed. "We must have dusted at least two dozen vamps. Mostly thanks to the Scarlet Witch over there." He nodded towards Willow, who produced another feeble smile in response.   
  
"Yeah," a voice said from somewhere near the back wall. Everyone looked to see Spike standing in the doorway to the training room. "'Cause heaven knows, we wouldn't want to give the vampire any credit."   
  
"Spike, what are you doing here?" Anya asked. "The sun's been up for hours."  
  
Spike pulled an oversized black rain slicker out from behind the doorway. "Don't worry, luv, I'm using protection," he said with a lewd grin.   
  
"It's ninety degrees and sunny," Xander said. "People don't notice a big black raincoat?" He paused. "Oh, right, this is Sunnydale. Denial is our biggest import."   
  
"And yet," Anya said, "when I'm running late for work and have to change my underwear on the bus, people do nothing but stare."   
  
Xander flushed, but Giles deftly changed the subject. "Ah, Spike, what brings you here today? You've never come to our morning meetings before."   
  
"Yeah, I'm usually just in it for the fighty parts. But maybe I ought to start comin' regular, seein' as how you lot seem to leave all MY contributions out of your little re-hashes."   
  
Looking as if it physically pained him to do so, Giles sucked in a breath and said, "We're all very grateful for your help, Spike."   
  
Spike smiled slightly and looked at the ground, as if he were actually embarrassed by the praise he had been seeking. "Yeah, well, it's something to do, innit?" After a moment, he said, "Anyhow, after you all cleared out, I went looking for DeSalva. Didn't find him."   
  
"Then he's still at large," Giles said.   
  
"Maybe, maybe not," Spike went on. "I didn't find DeSalva, but I did find a big pile of dust behind the cinema that might have been an ex-vamp."  
  
"Or, it might have been an ex-mess," Xander said skeptically.   
  
"Yeah. Except most messes don't have-" Spike took a wrinkled piece of paper out of his pants pocket "this, scratched into the wall right above them. I copied it for you." He opened up the paper and held it up in front of Giles. It showed a sword with jagged edges, drawn diagonally with the point down, so that it looked a bit like a bolt of lightning. "They teach you this one in Watcher kindergarten?"   
  
Giles' brow furrowed. "The Mark of Walpurgis," he said.   
  
"Val-what-now?" said Xander.   
  
"Walpurgis," Spike cut in. "Practically a legend in vampire circles."   
  
"She effectively ruled a small part of central Europe in the 14th and 15th centuries," Giles said. "The area she claimed as her territory was often marked with this symbol."   
  
"Faster than anything living or dead, so they say," Spike added with a sinister smile. "Carried a sword that could slice off your head, quick as a wink. I heard about this one bloke who had his hands in front of him, begging for mercy -- he actually caught his own noggin when it fell off."   
  
"All very interesting," Giles said, "but not, in all probability, useful, given that Walpurgis was slain in 1513."   
  
"Yeah," Spike said, his face falling a bit as he looked at the symbol again. "Probably just some rat-sucker, heard a few stories and drew this to start a rumor or two."   
  
"So, just to be clear, here," Anya said, "the psychotic vampire bad guy we were after last night may or may not be dead, and we may or may not have a psychotic vampire girl in town, too."   
  
"That about covers it," Xander said. "Hey Will, speaking of headless things, you having any luck rebooting ol' cyber-Buffy?"  
  
"I can get it working again," Willow said, sounding tired, "but not soon. Glory cracked its BIOS chip when she knocked its head off, so I pretty much have to re-create the operating system from scratch. It's gonna take a few more weeks, at least."   
  
Xander was disappointed. He had been hoping that the robot could take some of the slaying burden off of the gang. Especially Willow. He didn't buy her story about food poisoning; she was tired. Deep-down tired. That worried Xander, and it obviously worried Tara, too.   
  
But there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. He stood up. "OK, I have to get to the site; we're redoing the exterior moldings on the bank today. Having an apocalypse downtown has really shortened my commute." Anya gave him a quick kiss goodbye and sent him out the door with a slap on the butt. As he walked out, Xander made a mental note to talk to her about public butt-smacking.   
  
Tara turned to Giles. "How's Dawn? Today's her last day of school, right?"  
  
"She has her last examination this afternoon."  
  
"I bet she's excited."   
  
"I honestly don't know. She's been studying extremely hard, of late."   
  
"Well, she did miss some school after her mom died," Tara said. "She must have had a lot of catching up to do."   
  
"She was caught up two weeks ago," Giles replied. "Since then, she's been...it seems like she's just trying to keep her mind occupied."   
  
Tara nodded. She'd used school work as a coping mechanism once or twice, herself. Lord knew, her high-strung girlfriend certainly had.   
  
"It must be kind of weird, suddenly having a teenage girl living in your house."   
  
"There are times when 'weird' does not begin to describe it," Giles said. "On the other hand, I've had enough years of experience with teenage girls to know that they're not all bad, despite their obsession with nail polish and their very loose notions about what constitutes music." Giles tried to smile as he said this, but Tara could see a bit of sadness leaking into his expression.   
  
Tara suddenly remembered to check the time. "Hey, we've got to get going," she said.   
  
Willow looked at Giles and added, "Tara starts her job at the used bookstore today."  
  
"And Willow's going to be teaching computer day camp," Tara said.   
  
"Yeah," Willow said. Sitting down and resting for a few minutes had given her some of her color back, and she seemed a bit more animated now. "I used to love computer camp when I was a kid. The computer I always sat at was this cute little Compaq with a whole megabyte of RAM, which was like, the biggest deal back then. I called it 'Packy'".   
  
Giles stared.   
  
"Yes, I was a geek then, too," Willow said with a pouty look. Tara scritched Willow's head affectionately as she got up from the table.   
  
After the two girls had gone, a few customers drifted in, and Anya made her way to the cash register. Reasonably confident that Anya could take care of the customers without overly offending them, Giles went to the phone in the back to call his wholesaler and deal with his toad powder problem. He disliked having to do business with them on the telephone; their phone system played dreadful New Age versions of once-popular songs whenever he was put on hold, which was frequently. The last time, he had heard nearly half of the score from GREASE, played on a vibraphone.   
  
From her position behind the counter, Anya could hear at least some of what Giles was saying on the phone. She enjoyed listening to Giles' conversations with customers and suppliers; it helped her learn about the business, and sometimes, when they put him on hold, she would pick a few new words to add to her vocabulary. She didn't think there was anything wrong with it -- Xander had a bunch of magazines that at least implied that listening in was OK. Though, admittedly, most of the listening-in described in the magazines involved very loud people having sex in hotels with thin walls.   
  
Giles soon brought his conversation to what sounded like a satisfactory conclusion, but before he could get up and return to the front half of the shop, the phone rang again. This time, it was much less clear from Giles' words what the conversation was about.   
  
"Hello?...good Lord, where have you...well, I'm a bit surprised, of course...I see...yes, today, actually...what? tonight? don't you think that's a bit-...no, no, I'm not saying-...Yes. Yes, of course...I'll expect you then. Goodbye."   
  
A minute passed. Then Giles walked slowly back into the front half of the shop, his face ashen.   
  
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Anya said. "Which I hope you didn't, because Willow told me she inspected the place for ghosts, and if she missed a spot-"  
  
"Anya," Giles interrupted, "could you watch the shop for the rest of the day? I'm afraid I need to go home."   
  
"Sure," Anya said as Giles walked away from the counter. "But how come-?"  
  
Giles was already out the door.   
  
----  
  
At about three o'clock that afternoon, Dawn Summers bounded in the door of Giles' apartment. She was full of energy. Her last final exam was finished, and she knew she'd aced it. Now she had a whole summer ahead of her to have fun -- hang out with her friends, read mysteries, maybe hang out a little at the public pool where that cute boy from school was going to be lifeguarding, or go to the beach with Bu-  
  
Oh. She'd actually forgotten, for a few seconds.   
  
The energy went out of her. She dropped her backpack, now limp and empty of textbooks, and trudged up to her room.   
  
When she got to the doorway, she saw several things that didn't compute. First, Giles was there, in her room. Why wasn't he at work? And second, why was he surrounded by open cardboard boxes?   
  
"Oh. Dawn," he said awkwardly. "I, ah...I have some news."  
  
"What's going on?" Dawn said. "Why are you packing my stuff?"   
  
"I received a call this morning from your father. He's returned to Los Angeles and he... knows about your mother and, and Buffy."  
  
Dawn went blank.   
  
"Apparently," Giles went on, "he's been in Argentina, consulting on some sort of lumber business. He's only recently returned."  
  
"I...I wasn't sure if...." Dawn didn't seem to be able to complete her thought.   
  
"In any case, he's coming here tonight to take you back to Los Angeles."  
  
Emotion began to creep into Dawn's blank expression. "What? He, he's coming? Tonight?"  
  
"I told him I thought that was a bit soon, but he said he couldn't wait to see you."   
  
Dawn was silent for several seconds, until she finally said, "And you're just going to...let him? Let him take me away?"  
  
"Dawn, he's your father, your family. Surely, if there is anyone you belong with now, it's him."  
  
"But I haven't seen him in more than two years!" Then she stopped as a realization came to her. "Oh God, I've NEVER seen him! He- he doesn't even know...that I'm not...What if he figures it out? What if he just looks at me and KNOWS?"   
  
"I'm quite certain he'll remember you the same way the rest of us-"   
  
"And what about my friends? If I go to L.A., I might never see them again! I don't know anybody in L.A; what am I supposed to do all summer? God, and then in the fall, I won't know anybody at school! And even if I do, it'll be kids I haven't seen since the third grade, and I probably won't even recognize them!"   
  
"I know it will be a big adjustment, but-"  
  
"Was it me?" Dawn cried, tears beginning to spill down her face. "Did I do something that made you not- not want me anymore?"   
  
"Oh, Dawn..." Giles stepped close to the girl and embraced her. "It's not that at all. Your father...well, he's your father. I cannot stand in his way if he wants you back. Not legally, and not morally." He lifted Dawn's chin up and made her look at him. "He only found out about your mother and Buffy a few days ago; he must simply feel terrible. I think you need to give him a chance to make things right with you." Giles hoped that Dawn would see the reason in what he was saying.   
  
Instead, Dawn pulled out of Giles' grasp and bolted downstairs and out the door.   
  
The Watcher sighed heavily. With teenagers, reason was often too much to hope for.   
  
He shuffled to his room to call the others. Hank Summers was coming at seven o'clock; they would want a chance to say goodbye before then.   
  
----  
  
When Giles called Xander, the young carpenter took the news with as much shock as any of the others. But once they were past the questions and explanations, Xander moved unexpectedly to another topic.   
  
"Spike and I were talking about patrolling tonight to look for DeSalva."   
  
"That seems wise. Perhaps after Dawn leaves."   
  
"Yeah. Just don't say anything about it to Willow, OK?"   
  
"You want to patrol without her?"   
  
"Come on, you saw her this morning. She's wiped. She's been coming out with us every single night, doing all kinds of heavy mojo; that's gotta be draining her batteries."  
  
"I imagine you're right. All right, we'll, um, linger here after Dawn leaves and then patrol once Willow and Tara go home. But make certain that Spike understands that he's not to give anything away to Willow."   
  
"Don't worry," Xander replied. "I don't think Spike will do anything that would keep him from taking out DeSalva."   
  
-----  
  
"I'm leaving," Spike said.   
  
The Scoobies were gathered in Giles' living room. Dawn had just left with her father, and Spike could recall few occasions when he'd had such mixed feelings about a single event. On the one hand, the whole thing had been a very entertaining emotional bloodbath -- everybody upset, crying, hugging in that pitiful way humans do when they literally don't want to let each other go. Hank Summers had been completely awkward around the others, no doubt sensing the resentment they all felt towards him for neglecting his daughters during some of their most trying times. Giles, in particular, looked like he was only barely holding himself back from beating the man to death.   
  
But somehow, all of this emotional carnage was less amusing when Dawn was the most unhappy of all. Spike still couldn't explain to himself just why that was. He didn't think much of Hank Summers himself, but the others could have been a bit more subtle about their dislike for him. It had only made Dawn's awkward reunion with her father that much more awkward.   
  
Spike looked around at the others. To a one, they were a wreck. Willow was obviously one step off from bursting into tears; Xander was doing his usual glum-but-ironic bit; Tara and Anya were being supportive of their lovers in an attempt to ignore their own sadness.   
  
Most interesting was Giles. He was like a man who'd been stabbed through the gut at an elegant dinner party, but who was less interested in getting help than in keeping the blood from showing through his jacket.   
  
"Leaving?" Anya cried. "What do you mean?"   
  
"I made the Slayer a promise to mind Little Bit for her, and I'm keepin' it. I'm going to L.A."  
  
"When?"  
  
Spike snorted. "Now. I got no more reason to hang 'round here."   
  
"Spike," Giles said, "we don't know whether or not DeSalva is dead, and even if he is, whoever killed him could be even more dangerous. This is a potential crisis."   
  
"Hello?" Spike shouted. "You live in bleeding Sunnydale! There's always going to be a crisis, and if you stop one, there's gonna be another, and one after that, and after that. And yet, instead of leaving this cursed town and getting on with your lives, you stay and keep your fingers in the bloody dike. Well here's a bit o' news -- sooner or later, you're going to run out of fingers. Because you're all trying to do someone else's job, and you'll never be able to do it as well as she did, because she was born to do it, and you were born to...have jobs and babies and 401Ks, not hold back the forces of nastiness. But you just keep on, because to do otherwise would be to truly embrace the fact that your Slayer is dead."   
  
Everyone was stunned silent. Then Xander, with a voice like ice, replied, "So is yours."   
  
Spike slammed his fist down so hard on the table that it cracked halfway down the center. Before anyone could say anything else, the vampire got up and stormed out the door.   
  
There were several seconds of silence. There might have been several more, save that everyone could hear Willow say "Damn" under her breath.   
  
-----  
  
Finally, Tara took Willow home, leaving Xander, Anya, and Giles free to patrol. They took crossbows in addition to the usual stakes and crosses. The bulky weapons would make the trio more conspicuous, but Giles knew they could make all the difference, should the three happen to find DeSalva. The man might have been pretentious and a liar, but his actions the previous night made it clear that he was unusually deadly in a fight.   
  
They checked several graveyards, then went downtown, walking the alleys where vamps liked to prowl. But there were no vampires to be found. That fact seemed strange to Xander, who vividly remembered the hordes of vamps partying hardy inside the Bronze just the night before.   
  
Xander, Anya, and Giles were just about ready to pack it in, when Giles suggested checking around the Sun theater, where Spike had found the mark of Walpurgis. It wasn't the most promising of leads, but they agreed that it couldn't hurt to look.   
  
There was no one behind the theater, though Giles did indeed see the mark scratched on the wall, as Spike had said. Somehow, it was more unnerving to see it firsthand, even though it most likely meant nothing.   
  
"Just to cap things off," Xander said, "I'm gonna go up on the roof. You guys want to come?"   
  
Anya and Giles slung their crossbows and followed Xander up the fire escape to the emergency exit for the projection booth, then clambered the last few feet up onto the flat, tarred roof. They split up and looked down over the edges of the rooftop, watching for activity.   
  
Soon, as Xander was staring northward over the many flat rooftops of downtown Sunnydale, he felt Anya poking him in the shoulder. He turned to see that she was pointing to the edge of the roof she had been watching from. She waved for Giles to come over, too.   
  
The three crouched by the edge of the roof as Anya pointed out three figures who were walking down the back alley, towards the theater. It was two men and a woman. The men wore shorts and Hawaiian T-shirts -- odd dress, given that they were vampires in full game face.   
  
The female had her undead visage on, as well. She wore jeans and a man's dress shirt with the cuffs rolled up to mid-forearm and the top two buttons undone. Her casual style of dress, in contrast with her vampiric features, made her appearance particularly macabre.   
  
The three vampires stopped behind the theater and began to converse. Giles, Anya, and Xander crouched on the roof, trying to listen to what one of the male vampires was saying.   
  
"So, like, do you want us to do anything when they get here?"   
  
"No," the female said. "Speak, if you must, but do nothing." Giles could hear the hint of an accent, though he couldn't quite place it.   
  
"Right," the first vamp said. "Hey, you know what? After this, we could head for the beach, see if the waves are up-"  
  
The female put a finger to her lips, and the talkative vamp shut up.   
  
Four more vampires came up the alley from the other direction. None of the humans on the rooftops recognized them; whoever they were, they had been either too smart or too unpopular to attend DeSalva's party the previous night.   
  
The four new vamps came to a stop standing abreast across the alley, like a wall. One of the ones in the middle looked over at the woman's two male followers. "Jake," he said. "Bobby. Is this for real? Or have you guys been smoking your Sex Wax?"   
  
"It's totally for real, dude," Bobby said.   
  
The vampire in the middle stepped forward, right in front of the woman. "So you wanna be the master vampire?"   
  
"Yes," she said simply.   
  
"We weren't stupid enough to follow DeSalva. What makes you think we should follow you?"   
  
"I am better than he was," she replied. She didn't say it boastfully, but as if it were simply a matter of fact. "I am Walpurgis."   
  
"Hm," the other vamp said. And then, without warning, he threw a punch straight at her face.   
  
Except her face wasn't there when his fist arrived. The woman had dropped into a crouch; before her attacker could react, she grabbed him around the waist and lifted him on her shoulder like a fireman. Then she dropped him on his head. When he fell forward onto his back, she placed her foot on his throat.   
  
The fallen vamp's friends started to move in, but he raised his hand awkwardly, and they stopped.   
  
"Why did you do that?" the woman asked. The man started to gargle a response, but she made it for him. "You wanted to know for yourself. Who I am."   
  
The prone vampire nodded as best he could.   
  
Walpurgis lifted her foot. The vampire sat up on the concrete, coughing a bit.   
  
"I have studied this place," Walpurgis went on. "Most especially, I have studied the vampires who tried to rule it: the Master, William the Bloody, Angelus, Mr. Joke-"  
  
One of her shorts-clad henchmen tiptoed up and whispered something to her.   
  
"Ah," she said. "Mr. Trick. His time of control was so brief, it is easy to forget his name."  
  
One or two of the vamps who were looking on chuckled.   
  
"In any case," Walpurgis continued, "I have studied their mistakes, their individual flaws. And, for all of them, their downfall was fear. Fear of appearing weak.   
  
"The Master, for example, killed the Three, because he thought that to do otherwise would make his followers believe that he would tolerate failure. And thus, he lost his best soldiers, who had come closer to killing his enemy, the Slayer, than any who preceded them. His fear made him wasteful, and his wastefulness destroyed him."  
  
The other vampires were nodding.   
  
"And had anyone questioned him, pointed out the error of his actions, he would not have listened. He would, instead, have killed any who dared to be smarter than he.  
  
"But I will not make these mistakes. Because you know that I am not weak. I do not have to prove it to you. I am Walpurgis; I am the lightning in the Devil's hand. And those who follow me will-"  
  
Suddenly, Xander leaned out over the top of the wall and fired his crossbow. The bolt zoomed straight at Walpurgis' back.   
  
Without a sound, Walpurgis spun around and slapped it aside.   
  
Xander's eyes went wide. Giles and Anya stood up, preparing for action.   
  
"What did you do that for?" cried Giles in shock.   
  
"I was seizing the moment!" Xander yelled back.   
  
Walpurgis looked at her two henchmen, then pointed up at the three Scoobies. "Kill them, please," she said.   
  
The two shorts-clad vampires leaped up onto the fire escape and climbed towards the roof as fast as their superhuman strength would propel them. Anya fired her crossbow at one of them, but too soon; the bolt was deflected away by the grille-like upper landing of the fire escape. The vamps kept coming.   
  
"Run!" yelled Giles as he slung his own crossbow. He ran to the front of the building, Xander and Anya at his heels, and looked down over the edge. The Sun's marquee was nearly four yards below his feet. Gritting his teeth, he dropped over the edge and landed awkwardly; there was a low metallic boom as his feet struck the flat surface of the marquee. Giles gripped the metal edge with his fingers and lowered himself most of the way to the ground, then fell the last three feet. Two more booming noises from above indicated that Xander and Anya were right behind him.   
  
Xander hit the top of the marquee even more awkwardly than Giles had; his right foot turned sideways with a slight crunching sound. He yelled, and Anya, who had made a better landing, turned to him with a look of fright. "Go!" Xander shouted, waving her on.   
  
Xander was just crawling to the edge when one of his pursuers -- Jake, he thought -- landed next to him, catlike. His yellow eyes regarded Xander with equal measures of amusement and hunger.   
  
"Sorry, little dude. Hope you didn't have any plans for, you know, ever."   
  
"Well," Xander said, still on his back and trying to keep fear from overwhelming him. "I was planning to get religion." He quickly pulled a small crucifix from his jacket and held it up; Jake yelled, "Aw, bogus!" and backed away.   
  
The other vampire, Bobby, hit the roof behind Xander and made a grab for him, then yelled in pain as a bolt from Giles' crossbow hit him in the back. The bolt missed the heart, but the sudden shock of it was enough to make Bobby twist around awkwardly and fall off the marquee.   
  
Xander threw his crucifix at Jake, making him duck and cower for a moment. Xander used those few seconds to scuttle backwards to the edge of the roof, grab it, and drop down. By the time Jake regained his wits enough to go after Xander, Anya had reloaded; she sent a bolt whizzing past the vampire's ear, making him drop down again.   
  
Fortunately, Giles had parked his convertible just down the street; the three humans made a run for it. Xander thanked his lucky stars for the miracle of adrenaline, which enabled him to ignore his pain and run almost as fast as his uninjured friends. Which was a good thing; the two vampires were not far behind.   
  
Giles turned the key in the ignition even as Xander and Anya climbed into the car. Bobby, with Jake right behind him, caught up to them just in time to smell the burning rubber as the car tore off.   
  
Bobby watched them go, visibly pissed off. But something told him he'd see the three humans again.   
  
"Eat you later, dudes," he murmured.   
  
-----  
  
Tara woke up at 2am to the feeling of something warm and wet against her front. She had fallen asleep spoon-style with Willow, but now it felt like she was holding a big towel that someone had accidentally dropped into a hot tub.   
  
"Willow?" Tara said. Willow didn't respond.   
  
Tara rolled over and turned on the light. Willow was shivering, and her nightgown was soaked with sweat. Tara put her hand to her lover's damp forehead and found it alarmingly hot. Even more frightening was how labored Willow's breathing sounded.   
  
"Oh, God," Tara gasped.   
  
She was dialing 911 before she even realized that she'd picked up the phone.   
  
-----  
  
It was almost like a ritual -- meeting in the hospital lobby at some ungodly hour, sipping bad vending-machine coffee, waiting for news from the doctor.   
  
"They took her into an examining room first," Tara said, almost shaking with anxiety, "then they rushed her out of there with a mask over her face. I don't even know w-where they took her."   
  
Xander put his arms around Tara, though it would have been hard for him to say whether he did it for Tara's sake or his own. Anya put on her supportive face, or her best facsimile of one, and Giles busied himself with trying to find out what was going on.   
  
As Giles argued with the desk clerk, who seemed to know less than nothing, a doctor emerged from behind the ER's double doors. Giles recognized him from previous visits to the hospital, and it was clear that the doctor recognized the slender Englishman as well.   
  
"Mister Giles, isn't it?" the man said.   
  
"Yes, Doctor...Greenlea," Giles said; he hadn't quite remembered the man's name, and was grateful that he wore a hospital ID tag.   
  
"Ms. Rosenberg has pneumonia," the doctor said. "We're giving her antibiotics, and we've managed to bring her fever down."  
  
"Well, that's good news," Giles said, relieved.   
  
"But we're keeping her in isolation."  
  
"Why?"  
  
The doctor responded to Giles' question with a question. "Mr. Giles, to your knowledge, does Ms. Rosenberg have any sort of chronic illness?"   
  
"Ah- Not that I know of."  
  
"Does she get sick a lot?"   
  
"No. She's usually quite healthy. What are you getting at?"   
  
"Mr. Giles, we perform a complete blood count on everyone who comes in here with an opportunistic infection like pneumonia; it's a measure of how well their immune system is working. In a healthy person, the white cell count is between six hundred and twelve hundred." The doctor took a breath. "Ms. Rosenberg's is two."   
  
"Two hundred?"   
  
"No," the doctor said flatly. "Two."   
  
"Good Lord!" Giles couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why is this happening to her?"   
  
"We don't know. We're going to do a lot more tests, of course, but right now, we don't know. In any case, we need to keep her in the ICU until the pneumonia clears up and her immune system begins to recover. Otherwise, she could catch something even more dangerous."   
  
The doctor looked around. "Now, I need to get back to her. If you can get in touch with her family, we really should speak to them. Hell, I've told you more than I should, but I know you and she are close."  
  
"Yes," Giles said, looking both upset and thoughtful. "Yes, we are."   
  
When the doctor left, Giles went back to the others and told them what he'd learned from the doctor. Xander and Anya were shocked by the news, but Tara simply said, "I was afraid of something like this."   
  
"Like what?" Xander said. "What are you talking about?"   
  
"Willow's been using a lot of dark magic. A lot. And dark magic always has a price. I kept telling her that, but..." Her voice trailed off as her anxiety overwhelmed it.   
  
"But this is terrible!" Anya cried. "We have a new master vampire who's, like, faster than a speeding bullet, and we have no Buffy, no Spike, and no Willow. Personally, I think it's time to move to Moscow." She looked at the date on her watch. "It's the middle of summer; there's sunlight more than twenty hours a day. And the other four hours, we'll just hang out in one of those big cathedrals with the pointy onion things on top, and put a big cross in front of the door."   
  
"I've a solution even more desperate than that one," Giles said. "I'm calling Angel."   
  
"I don't think it'll help," Xander responded. "I called down there earlier, after you told me Dawn was leaving. I figured it would be nice if Dawn could see a friendly face -- even if it's Cordy's. Anyway, she told me she's barely seen Angel lately. Darla and Drusilla are on another rampage. I don't think he's going to want to leave L.A. while they're loose."   
  
Giles took a breath. "Then I'm calling Travers."   
  
"What?" Xander said. "What's he going to do? Send a bunch of his Council cronies to bore Walpurgis to death?"   
  
Giles looked Xander in the eye. "There is still one person who may have a chance of stopping Walpurgis," Giles said. "And Travers may be able to...make her available."   
With that, Giles pulled a calling card from his wallet and headed for the pay phones.   
  
Xander stared blankly after the Watcher for a moment. Then, as a look of realization spread over Xander's face, the young man turned to Anya and Tara. "So," he asked Anya, "How's the job market in Moscow? Do they need carpenters?"   
  
END CHAPTER ONE 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Bzzzzt.   
  
It was the first ring of the buzzer, alerting every inmate of the Fuller State Correctional Facility for Women that it was time to awaken to another day of incarceration.   
  
Faith got up, put on her uniform, brushed her teeth and hair. Sonya, her best friend and cell mate, nudged past her at the sink, growling the growl of those who are not in their right minds before their first cup of coffee. Even if it's only bad prison coffee.   
  
Sliiiiide. Ka-chunk. The sound of four hundred cell doors opening at once, filling the corridors with blue uniforms. They chattered and jostled their way towards the cafeteria like a herd of unruly cattle headed for the feeding trough.   
  
There had once been a time when Faith thought the monotony of this life would kill her if her enemies, new or old, didn't do it first. But somehow, that hadn't happened at all. Instead, she'd found friends, and a Watcher, and a purpose -- helping prisoners who wanted to get their lives on track. The gang leaders and drug lords who had once ruled over every prisoner within Fuller's walls now had no choice but to share their dominion with Faith, Sonya, and their ever-growing band of followers. Of course, it helped that their efforts were secretly supported by prison Warden Julian Barnes. Barnes' large stature and friendly, open demeanor belied his capacity for subtlety and behind-the-scenes maneuvering. His manipulation of cell and work assignments had, no doubt, saved Faith and Sonya's lives on more than one occasion.   
  
As Faith and Sonya fell into the river of inmates trudging towards the cafeteria, Faith felt another hand press into hers for a moment, then let go. Without looking, Faith could tell that the object was a match stick. In her gang's secret code of objects and symbols, a match stick meant that the warden, or one of the few other staff members who were in on the plan, had arranged a secret meeting with the recipient. Faith knew she should expect a one-day work reassignment -- for example, mopping the staff lounge.   
  
Sure enough, the work roster that morning stated that Faith would spend the day cleaning the kitchen of the staff cafeteria. Oh boy, Faith thought, fun with grease traps. The one problem with this system of secret meetings was that you actually had to do the crappy jobs that served as cover. But there were worse things; some inmates had to do those kinds of jobs _every_ day.   
  
She began to make her way to the guard station that protected the way between the inmate and staff areas of the prison, wondering what ol' Warden Barnes wanted.  
  
-----  
  
"I want to know what this is all about," Barnes said to Sarah Reynolds, Fuller's resident correctional psychologist. The warden was holding up a letter which he had pulled out of a Federal Express envelope a few minutes before.   
  
"Faith is being transferred. I simply need your signature on the forms," Reynolds replied. She spoke with great precision, as always, in an accent generic enough that she could have acquired it in any number of metropolitan areas across the United States. Only the most skilled of linguists might have guessed that Sarah had been born in Leeds, England, and that her Americanized speech patterns were the result of a conscious effort on her part to avoid drawing attention to herself. It made her work as Faith's Watcher that much easier to carry out.  
  
"I know you need my signature for a transfer," Barnes went on. "What I want to know is (a) why, and (b), why am I first hearing about it in a letter from the office of the Lieutenant Governor."   
  
"I simply think that Faith would be better off in another institution."   
  
"Again, I'm asking you for a reason." Anger was rising in Barnes' voice.   
  
"She's...not making as solid a recovery as I'd hoped," Sarah said. "The pressure of being field marshal in your secret war is getting to her. She needs time away from all that, somewhere where every single gang leader and drug dealer doesn't know and hate her."   
  
Barnes thought about that for a split second, then spoke. "That is _bullshit_ and you know it. Faith's doing better than she ever has. You don't think I read those reports you put on my desk? You don't think I keep an eye on her myself?" He stood up from his chair and put his hands on his desk; his huge frame leaned over Sarah like a steel crane.   
  
"You know, my gut's always been pretty reliable, and ever since I met you, it's been telling me that you're keeping something back from me. I never pried, because you're my friend and I trust you. But this is the first time my gut has ever told me that you're lying to my face."  
  
Instead of responding to Barnes' accusation, Sarah said, "I'm afraid there's one other letter you need to read." She handed him another page, on Fuller letterhead. The warden scanned it and then somehow managed to frown even more deeply than he had before.   
  
"Your resignation."   
  
"Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't give you more notice."   
  
"Notice?" Barnes said, straightening up to his full height. "You think I'm bothered that you didn't give me enough NOTICE? Jesus Christ, Sarah! I can't begin to tell you how many parts of this bother me more than that you didn't give me notice. Like you going over my head to the state government, for starters."   
  
"I didn't want to," Sarah replied as she got up from her chair, "but I knew you would argue, and I don't have the time. We need to leave today."   
  
"We? As in you and Faith?" Barnes said. His eyes narrowed. "What is this? Are you two...are you involved in something? Some Federal thing, maybe?"   
  
"I can't tell you."   
  
"Goddamn it. If you and Faith leave now, everything we all have worked for could go straight down the john."  
  
"You'll still have Sonya."  
  
"Sonya's good, but...Faith has an edge. I don't really even know what it is, but it scares the bejesus out of the gang leaders. We couldn't have got this far without her." Then, looking straight at Sarah, he added, "Or you."   
  
"You'll work it out," Sarah said. "You may put up a 'dumb jock' facade sometimes, but I know what kind of mind you have. You've lost a couple of pieces, that's all. I believe you'll still win the game."  
  
"Fine. Whatever," Barnes said, his face suddenly stony. He bent down over his desk and signed the forms. Still looking down at his desktop, he held out the signed documents to Faith and said, "My secretary will make you a copy. Now get out."   
  
Sarah took the papers and started towards the door.  
  
"Wait," Julian said. Sarah turned; Barnes was looking at her.   
  
"Whatever it is...good luck," Barnes said.   
  
Sarah looked into his big brown eyes. "Thank you," she said softly.   
  
-----  
  
Sarah's dress shoes clicked rhythmically against the floor as the wiry, slightly owlish looking Watcher hurried to meet Faith in the staff cafeteria. She was not happy. Julian was her friend, and now she had to leave him in the lurch because of her Watcher duties. Not to mention that she might not ever see him again. Trying to distract herself from these thoughts, Sarah idly wondered how the Council had gotten to the state Lieutenant Governor. They'd had years to get their fingers into California politics, knowing the value of having influence in the state that held the town of Sunnydale. They might have used bribery, or blackmail, or maybe the letter was simply a clever forgery. It didn't really matter, of course. The end was the important thing now, not the means.  
  
Sarah entered the cafeteria and went back through the doors to the kitchen, where Faith and a couple of other prisoners were mopping and scrubbing at shiny institutional tile and stainless steel as a guard watched over them.   
  
"Faith," Sarah said. "Come with me, please."   
  
The dark-haired young woman looked up at her from her position on the floor, where she was cleaning the front of an oven. There was a steadiness to Faith's gaze that no one, Sarah thought, might ever have seen before in the young Slayer's entire life. The Faith of today was a far cry from the girl who, vicious and frightened as a wounded animal, had walked through the prison gates almost a year and a half earlier. There was a degree of confidence in her eyes now, and, as Faith looked at Sarah, respect -- the sort of respect for others that is born of respect for one's self. Faith had come a long way, and Sarah felt pride in having played a part in that.   
  
And she was grateful for every inch of that progress, because Faith was about to be tested as she never had been before.   
  
Faith followed Sarah out into the hall and into her office. As soon as the door closed behind them, Sarah said, "Faith, we have to leave."   
  
"Huh?" Faith said. "I'm supposed to meet with Mr. Barnes."  
  
"No. Mr. Barnes summoned you because he wanted to talk about your transfer."  
  
"What transfer? I don't want to go anywhere."  
  
"Officially, you are being transferred from Fuller to another institution. Unofficially, you are exiting the prison system."  
  
"Hold it -- you mean I'm escaping?"   
  
"Essentially. Being broken out would be the more accurate phrase."  
  
"Look, not that I don't miss beer and solo showers, but why now? And why am I thinking that we're not going to Aruba, or anywhere else the Beach Boys used to sing about before they died or whatever?"   
  
"I'll thank you not to assume that the Beach Boys are dead merely because they are no longer as popular as, for example, 'N Sync."   
  
"This is because of Buffy, isn't it? There wasn't another Slayer to replace her?"   
  
"No, there wasn't. As far as the Council understands, Buffy has had her replacement; the line now goes through you."  
  
"Which means I'm the only one left. Which means I have to take over...Oh, my God. Don't tell me we're going to Sunnydale."   
  
"All right, I won't tell you. We'll just get in the car and go."   
  
"Goddamn it."   
  
"Quite. Now let's go to the guard station and get you ready for your 'transfer'."   
  
"Wait, we're going now?"   
  
"The Council advised me to get you out as quickly as possible before their ruse is discovered."   
  
"What about my stuff? And I want to say goodbye to my friends. Sonya -- I can't just leave without saying something to Sonya."   
  
"I'm sorry. There's no time for any of that. A state police car waiting for us outside right now."  
  
"Well, he can leave the meter running, because I'm not leaving here without-"  
  
"Faith," Sarah cut in, "this isn't personal. I'm not taking you out of here to punish you, or to reward you, or because I feel like it. Many people's lives may be at stake, and this is our -- your -- only opportunity to help them. And..."   
  
"What?"   
  
"Never mind. We need to go. Now."   
  
Faith's fists clenched. She looked like she wanted to hit something, or throw something. Instead, she closed her eyes for almost ten seconds, and then opened them.   
  
"Fine," she said, her voice tight. "Let's go."   
  
-----  
  
Rupert Giles was in Hell.   
  
At least, that's what it felt like from the neck up. Any attempt to lift or turn his head just made the pain slide to the lowest point, like sand in a jug. The thought of sitting up made him want to vomit, something he was fairly certain he'd already done a few times in the last several hours.   
  
He knew from experience that it was never good to drink alone. The day Buffy died, he'd been sorely tempted but fought off the urge, knowing that, if he started drinking then, he might never, ever stop.   
  
But this time, the desire had crept up on him, striking when he hadn't expected it, and thus hadn't steeled himself against it. You're not really alone, he had thought in a state of demented sadness, if Jack Daniels and Jose Cuervo are there to keep you company.   
  
Suddenly, Giles felt the sensation of a knife being driven sideways through his skull.   
  
No, he realized, it's just the doorbell.   
  
He seriously considered not answering it. It might be Xander, dropping by to annoy him on his day off. It might be a Jehovah's Witness. It might be a Girl Scout with cookies, which would be disastrous -- one look at a cookie and Giles would certainly toss his own.   
  
But it could also be the person he was waiting for.   
  
Giles looked at his bedside clock/radio. Was it eleven o'clock already? Thank Heaven it was Sunday, when he wouldn't have to open the Magic Box until noon.   
  
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Giles rose from the bed and pulled on the paisley robe that Buffy had once said made him look like Hugh Hefner. It wasn't as dignified as he might have liked, but there was no time to dress properly, and it was far better than coming to the front door in his boxers and an old concert T-shirt so worn that the young David Bowie pictured on the front now looked like the old David Bowie.   
  
Giles shuffled downstairs to the front door and peered through the peephole. He saw a woman he didn't recognize. She didn't dress like a Jehovah's Witness, she was too old to be a Girl Scout, and she was too attractive to be Xander.   
  
He opened the door, trying not to wince as the daylight struck his sensitive eyes. "Um, hello," he said.   
  
"Hello," the woman answered, stretching out her hand. "I'm Sarah Reynolds. I believe you were expecting me?"   
  
"Oh, yes, yes, do come in," Giles said, shaking the woman's hand. "Please forgive my appearance, I, ah, I was up late last night. And I wasn't expecting you so soon."   
  
"The Council can act quite quickly when properly motivated," Sarah said as she stepped forward into the doorway, "and your report has alarmed them considerably."   
  
Only then did Giles notice another figure standing behind Sarah.   
  
"Hey," Faith said, barely looking up at Giles.   
  
"Faith," Giles said. "How- how are you?"   
  
"Good," Faith said awkwardly. "I'm good."   
  
"Good," Giles repeated. "That's good. Um, come in."  
  
Faith followed Sarah inside, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Glancing around, Faith saw that the place was less neat than it had been the last time she'd visited. It wasn't messy by any normal person's standards, but the few dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, the jacket and shirt thrown over the back of the couch, and most especially the empty tequila bottle on the coffee table all stuck out like sore thumbs in the otherwise hyper-orderly environment of Giles' apartment.   
  
"Would- would either of you like something to drink?" Giles asked.   
  
Faith's eyes flicked wishfully to the tequila bottle. "Just some water. Please," she said.   
  
"For me, as well," Sarah added.   
  
As Giles poured glasses of cool water from a Brita pitcher, Sarah said, "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Giles. Your CD-ROM versions of the Codex Diabolorum and Tobin's Spirit Guide have been invaluable to me since I became Faith's Watcher."   
  
"Oh, well, thank you," Giles replied. "Though I really can't take a great deal of the credit. Willow -- a friend of Buffy Summers' -- scanned the text and created the, the user interface."  
  
"Oh, well, please convey my thanks. And my condolences, of course, which I also extend to you."   
  
Faith took a second to translate Sarah's three-dollar words and realized that Sarah was saying that she was sorry that Buffy was dead. I should say something too, Faith thought.   
  
But what could she say? Was it even possible for her to say anything that would make Giles feel better and not worse? Would she just look like a hypocrite, saying she was sorry for the death of someone she herself had tried to kill a whole bunch of times?   
  
In the end, Faith chose to say nothing.   
  
"Thank you," Giles said to Sarah. "I...it's been hard on all of us."   
  
Sarah glanced over at the empty liquor bottle. "I imagine so," she answered neutrally.  
  
Giles looked up at her and Faith. "Well, I imagine we should go to the magic shop."   
  
"For supplies?" Sarah asked. "You already have a plan in mind? I must say, I am impressed."   
  
"Oh, ah, no," Giles responded clumsily. "I own the shop. It's usually where we -- that is, the other people who...used to help Buffy, and I -- meet when we make plans. We've been gathering there in the mornings when the shop opens."  
  
"Ah, yes, Faith's told me a bit about them. Rather unusual, for a Slayer to have such a large group of supporters."   
  
"Buffy's 'supporters' have helped her to save the world on half a dozen occasions," Giles said, a bit sharply.   
  
"It was not my intention to criticize, Mr. Giles," Sarah responded evenly.   
  
Giles let out a breath. "I'm sorry," Giles said. "The Council has always frowned upon my allowing Buffy's friends to help her. Or allowing Buffy to have friends at all, for that matter."   
  
"The Council's attitudes have changed somewhat, of late," Sarah said. "Your Slayer lasted longer than most, and bested a great many deadly opponents. The Council may value tradition, but they also value results. Which is why they took your report so seriously."  
  
Wow, Faith thought, not only is he a Watcher again, but they actually respect him now.   
  
Life in prison had taught Faith a few things about respect. Her survival had often depended on it. A prisoner who liked you might turn against you for someone she liked better. A prisoner who feared you would happily betray you for someone stronger. But a prisoner who respected you was unlikely ever to sneak up behind you with a sharpened spoon handle.   
  
Giles went upstairs to change. Faith and Sarah sat and sipped their water. Faith was silent. The reality of her situation was beginning to sink in -- she was going to be seeing Willow and Xander again. And she wasn't sure how she was going to handle it.  
  
"It must be a bit unnerving, that you're about to see Buffy's friends again," Sarah said.   
  
"I really hate it when you read my mind," Faith replied.   
  
"No telepathy is required," Sarah said. "I simply know that, were I in your position, that's what I would worry about."   
  
"They hate me," Faith said. "Which I could handle, if it weren't for the fact that I deserve it."   
  
"You may have wronged them in the past," Sarah answered, "but if you are good to them now, they may see that you've changed."   
  
"I don't know if they'll give me a chance," Faith said.   
  
"Perhaps they won't. But you must give them a chance to give you a chance, if that makes any sense. Shutting people out before they can shut you out has cost you a lot, in the past."   
  
"So basically you're telling me to make nice no matter what."   
  
"It's not merely that. Remember our first rule of combat?"  
  
"'You can't win by trying not to lose,'" Faith quoted.   
  
"It's the same with friendships, Faith," Sarah said. "If your sole goal is to avoid being hurt, you end up with nothing."   
  
"I don't think any of those people will ever be my friends," Faith replied, looking down.   
  
"Perhaps not. But you may need them as allies, and that means that you cannot afford to alienate them."   
  
Faith nodded and fell silent. She stared at the drops of condensation that traveled down the side of her water glass. Some went straight down, others twisted and turned. A few barely moved, while others rushed to the bottom in a split second.   
  
Then Giles came downstairs, and the three of them got into his car and headed for town.   
  
-----  
  
As beginnings went, it wasn't the best.   
  
They arrived at the shop to find the door open and the lights on, but no one in sight. Giles entered cautiously.  
  
"Anya?" Giles called.   
  
"Good morning!" Anya cried, springing up from behind the counter and causing Giles to nearly jump out of his skin. "I was just plugging in the register. I like to unplug it at night, before we leave, in case of lightning or a power surge or something." She looked lovingly down at the machine. "We can't have your little circuits getting fried, can we? Because then you couldn't count the money, which is the whole reason I like you." She patted the top of the register.   
  
Giles dealt with Anya's peculiar behavior in his customary fashion -- he pretended he hadn't seen it. Waving Sarah and Faith into the shop, he said, "Anya, this is Sarah Reynolds, and this is Faith. I don't know if you've met, but-"  
  
"Oh, yes, Faith," Anya said, looking at the Slayer. "Xander's told me a lot about you."  
  
"Really?" Faith said.   
  
"You took his virginity and then tried to kill him."  
  
No one said a word.   
  
"Did you know he used to be afraid to let me be on top during sex?" Anya went on. "That was your fault. So stay away from him. See this?"   
  
Anya walked up to Faith and held up her fist. Faith thought Anya was threatening her until she noticed the modest diamond ring on Anya's finger.   
  
"This ring grants me exclusive sexual and romantic access to Xander. For life!" Anya lowered her fist, breathing hard. "So don't get any ideas," she finished.   
  
Before Anya could say anything else, Giles said, "Anya, I believe you should do our weekly inventory now."   
  
For once, Anya didn't argue. She backed away from Faith, never taking her eyes off the Slayer until she bumped into the edge of the counter, then turned around and practically ran into the stockroom.   
  
Faith was moderately horrified. She had expected to get a negative reception from Xander and Willow, but not from someone she'd only met once. And Faith had been in Buffy's body at the time.   
  
"Anya," Giles said slowly, "tends to...speak her mind. I wouldn't worry, I'm sure she'll-"   
  
"Hey Giles," came a shout from the door. Sarah and Faith turned around and saw Xander, who was carrying a white pastry box. "I brought some jelly doughn...holy Chihuahua."  
  
Xander was looking at Faith.   
  
"Hey," Faith said.   
  
"Faith," Xander replied cautiously. "It's been...well, not that long, considering that you're supposed to be doing life."   
  
"The Council has arranged for Faith's release," Sarah said. She walked over to Xander and extended her hand. "I am Sarah Reynolds, Faith's Watcher. You must be Xander."   
  
Xander shook her hand like it might be a cobra with fingers, then looked over at Giles. "Uh, Big G," he said nervously, "you didn't say anything about another Watcher. "  
  
"Don't call me that, and no, I didn't," Giles replied. "Did you expect Faith to come here unsupervised?"   
  
"Well, no, but-"  
  
"Giles!" came a shout from the doorway, drowning out the tinkling of the bells that hung on the door. It was Tara, who was breathing like a racehorse.   
  
"Tara," Giles said. "You're shouting. Which, since I've never heard you do it before, I find deeply alarming."   
  
"Turn on a radio," Tara said, "to the local news."   
  
Anya, who had heard the commotion, came out from the back room with a battery-powered radio and switched it on.   
  
"...found at about six-thirty this morning on the steps of City Hall. While no one saw the attack, the body has been taken away to the county coroner's office, but the Sunnydale Police have stated that it is likely that the victim was beheaded at the scene. The police have declined to comment, however, on the symbol that the joggers who found the body report was carved into the victim's forehead. Stay tuned to this station for further updates." The radio broadcast went to a commercial.   
  
"It was a lady who was walking her dog," Tara said. "They must have just grabbed her and killed her right there."   
  
"Good God, why?" Anya said. "I mean, I don't like dogs much either, but gosh."   
  
"It's a message," said Giles. "She's telling the human government of Sunnydale to get out before they get the same treatment."   
  
"Ah, the old Behead-O-Gram," Xander said. "When you want to say, 'There can be only one, and it ain't gonna be you.'"  
  
"As I understand it," Sarah said, "this is precisely the sort of thing Walpurgis did in her day. Which leads me to wonder-"  
  
"...how can she be alive?" Giles finished for her. "The woman we encountered last night was almost impossibly fast, just as Walpurgis' legend describes her. I don't see how it couldn't be her."   
  
"But if it is," Tara said, "she'd be more than six hundred years old, right?"   
  
"Which puts her in, like, Master territory," Xander added. "So how come she's not all bumpy and stuff? She looks like a garden-variety vamp to me."   
  
Faith nodded her head, understanding. Kakistos, the vampire who had killed Faith's first Watcher, had been about seven hundred years old, and he had looked like a costume from a Gwar concert.   
  
"Maybe-" Faith started. Everyone turned around to look at her as she looked at Giles. "Um, maybe you could tell us how she's supposed to have died. I mean, was it a Slayer?"  
  
"Let's, let's all sit down," Giles said, pointing to the table in the back. Faith, Sarah, Xander, Anya, and Tara all took seats and looked expectantly at Giles.   
  
"In answer to Faith's question," he began, "no, it wasn't a Slayer who killed Walpurgis. In fact, it was a Watcher.   
  
"Walpurgis, as I mentioned before, effectively ruled an area of a few hundred square miles in Swabia, part of what is now Germany. But, at about the turn of the 14th century, the human residents of her domain rose up against her, aided by knights and clergy from neighboring states, and slew most of her undead followers.   
  
"It is said that Walpurgis fled all the way to Portugal with her surviving henchmen, and, finding no safe haven on land, decided to try a career in piracy. She hired a crew of human thugs to man her vessel during the day, and she and her vampire followers sailed the ship at night. In this way, she was able to attack ships under cover of darkness, often capturing entire vessels, taking the precious wares they brought back from Asia and Africa, and detaining their crews below decks to keep herself and her subordinates fed.  
  
"But the Watchers' Council got wind of Walpurgis' deeds, and they sent a Watcher - one George Lloyd, who has been held up as a model of bravery by the Council ever since - to assassinate her. Lloyd began hanging about in waterfront taverns, studying the speech and dress of the rough sailors, and listening for word of Walpurgis. Finally, he found her ship when it landed one night in Bristol to offload its latest stolen cargo, and he finagled a position on board as a sailor.   
  
"Once the ship set sail, Lloyd spent weeks exploring the ship as they headed further and further out to sea. It seemed that Walpurgis had become interested in the New World, perhaps as a place to establish another domain, away from Europe's crossbows and Christianity.   
  
"Finally, a month after the voyage began, Lloyd went below decks in the middle of the day, when few of the vampires were awake. He broke into the powder magazine and soaked a long strip of cloth in oil, which he lit like a fuse. He then seized a longboat, in which he had hidden food and barrels of water, and made his escape. Before anyone could pursue him, the ship exploded. Neither Walpurgis nor any of her followers were ever seen again."   
  
"So what happened to Lloyd?" Tara asked.   
  
"He tried to return to Europe, but he ran out of water before he could get there. His body was found on the Irish coast, still clutching the watertight barrel in which he had sealed his diary. His writings indicated that he knew he was unlikely to survive the journey, but he had been willing to make that sacrifice in order to defeat so great an enemy."   
  
"Wow," Faith said. Everyone was looking at her again. "That's...that's a great story."   
  
"It's not a story," Xander said, a little pointedly. "A real guy gave his life to save real people. Some people have that in them." He glanced at Faith. "And some don't."   
  
Faith felt a little anger rising to that remark, but she held it down. For all she knew, Xander was right.   
  
"Well then," Sarah said, "we still have several hours of daylight remaining. Perhaps some research is in order."   
  
"Yes, yes," Giles said. "I have several books in the loft that may contain more information on Walpurgis. Anya, why don't you and Tara run out to the library and see what you can find on the Internet? And Xander, perhaps you could mind the register for a bit?"   
  
"No problem," Xander replied. "Maybe I can figure out why Anya seems to be in love with it."   
  
"Well, duh," Anya said. "It holds the money."   
  
"Faith," Giles continued, "there's a training room in the back that we built for Buffy. You might like to, um, check it out."   
  
"Thanks," Faith said. She walked through the rear door and soon discovered the room. It was great - there was a punching bag, a target dummy, practice weapons, all kinds of stuff. It was certainly better than working out in the abandoned solitary confinement block at Fuller.   
  
But even as Faith dropped to the floor to warm up, she began to wonder about her new enemy, an enemy she'd never even seen. Who was she, really? Was she really as fast as everyone said? And what preparations was SHE making right now?  
  
Faith had a feeling that all of her questions were going to be answered soon. And maybe not in a good way.   
  
-----  
  
Bobby watched carefully as Walpurgis hurled Jake across the room. She'd already done the same to Bobby several times, and Bobby was glad to let Jake have a turn. The new recruits from last night sat nearby, watching and learning.   
  
"No, no," Walpurgis said, "you are making yourself too easy to throw. Keep your center of balance low, and don't lean over so much."   
  
"Right," Jake said, dragging himself to his feet. They stood on the large wooden floor of what had once been a dance studio, now abandoned after its owner had gone bankrupt by refusing to believe that break dancing wasn't on the verge of a huge comeback. Walpurgis had hung half a dozen European swords and a couple of shields on the back wall, making the place look like some sort of Western dojo.   
  
Walpurgis and Jake closed and the swordswoman grabbed Jake again. This time, it took a little longer for her to throw him, but he still hit the floor hard.   
  
"That is enough for now," Walpurgis said. She sat down on the floor and gestured for Bobby and Jake to do the same. "Let us talk about our enemies. Tell me about the ones who killed the vampires at the Bronze."   
  
"OK, lessee," Jake said, "there was Spike, but Tony - this vamp who lives at the old gas station at the edge of town - swears he saw Spike's car heading for the highway last night."   
  
"Dude," Bobby said, "Tony also swears that aliens kidnapped him in 1973 but sent him back 'cause he didn't have live sperm. You know, for their alien breeding program."   
  
"Anyway," Jake went on, "then there were the two guys and the chick we saw last night. They're pretty much lunch meat; I am totally embarrassed that we didn't kill them."   
  
"More opportunities will present themselves," Walpurgis said. "Go on."   
  
"OK. The real heavy hitters were these two chicks. Witches or magicians or something, I don't know. The one blonde one had a couple of gnarly spells, but the redhead - dude, she must have dusted half the vamps in the place single-handed. Making stakes fly and stuff."   
  
Walpurgis' eyebrows rose slightly. "Where is this red-headed witch now?" she asked.   
  
"I donno. But I think I heard somebody call her...Willow. It couldn't be too hard to find somebody with a name like that."  
  
"Good," Walpurgis said, thoughtfully. "A powerful witch would be a very helpful ally."  
  
"What makes you think she'll help us?" Bobby asked.   
  
"Why wouldn't she?" Walpurgis replied. She took a sword from the wall and idly examined its edges for flaws as she spoke. "I'm sure she would do anything...for her sire."  
  
END CHAPTER 2 


	4. Chapter 3

At about one o'clock, Xander asked Giles' leave to go have lunch with Anya and Tara. Things were slow at the Magic Box, and Xander's manning of the counter was purely voluntary anyway, so Giles made no objection. Xander called the two women at Anya's apartment and told them to expect both him and a bag of burritos.   
  
When Xander arrived with the promised Mexican treats, he found Tara and Anya intently surfing the Web on Anya's computer. But the smell of salsa and refried beans quickly lured them to the kitchen table.   
  
As Anya tore into her burrito, Tara held up several sheets of paper to Xander. "We're finding some stuff," Tara said.   
  
"Yeah," added Anya. "Maybe we'll score a few points with the new Watcher."   
  
"I wouldn't get my hopes up about that," Xander said. "It's gotten pretty obvious over the years that Watchers are not our friends."   
  
"I suppose," Anya said through a mouthful of burrito. "The ones who come to interrogate Buffy weren't much fun. Though they didn't try to slay me, which was a nice surprise."   
  
"Heck, those guys were nothing," Xander said. "A couple of years ago, before either of you joined the group, there was this woman, Gwendolyn Post. She said she was going to be Faith's new Watcher, but instead she just tried to electrocute us all with this magic glove that looked like something from a Medieval bondage boutique. Turned out she'd been kicked out of the Watchers, and they just hadn't bothered to tell us.   
  
"Then we got Wesley. Man, they don't stuff shirts like that anymore. Totally useless."   
  
"Willow told me he's not like that anymore," Tara said haltingly.   
  
"Yeah, well, Willow also told me that those little burrs that stick to your shirt are where Velcro comes from." Xander paused and thought about that for a second. "Of course, we were eight years old at the time. And I still can't prove she's wrong. Anyway, if Wesley's any less of a doofus than he used to be, it's because he's not a Watcher anymore and they made him give back the broom they had shoved up his-"   
  
"But Giles is a Watcher!" Anya interjected nervously, apparently feeling the need to reassure herself about her employer. "And he's OK, isn't he? I mean, he's got no sense of humor and his aftershave smells like bowling shoes, but he's not evil or anything."  
  
"Giles is the exception that proves the rule," Xander asserted.   
  
"Actually," Tara said, thinking aloud, "I don't think an exception ever proves a rule..."  
  
"My point," Xander asserted, "is that we can't trust this new Watcher lady. I mean, come on - would anybody who wasn't at least a little bit psycho volunteer to hold Faith's leash?"  
  
"Faith's been in jail a long time," Tara said. "Maybe she's changed."   
  
"Yeah. And maybe my dog, Iggy, is off frolicking on the farm my parents said they sent him to."   
  
"You really think so?" Anya said. "Because Iggy would be more than twenty years old..." She paused and let understanding hit her. "Oh. Sarcasm."  
  
"I'm just saying, we've got a Slayer gone bad and a Watcher who's...already bad," Xander said, "So don't turn your back on either of 'em."   
  
"But what if they're standing on either side of you?" Anya said. "And then, one of them asks you the time, and-"  
  
Xander looked at her, head askew.   
  
"Oh. Metaphor."  
  
-----  
  
Three hours later, the group was reassembled at the Magic Box. Giles and Sarah jointly took control of the meeting by being first to share what information they had discovered.   
  
"From what we can discern," Giles began, "there have been no sightings of Walpurgis since her ship was sunk in 1513. Her symbol has been seen here and there, but as far as we can tell, they were all drawn by either admirers or pretenders."   
  
"What is more," Sarah added, "Walpurgis was never one to stay inconspicuous for very long. Her long-term ambition was to create a sort of dark paradise where vampires could prosper and humans would live in their service. So, if the vampire you encountered last night was indeed Walpurgis, we must wonder where she has been for the past five hundred years."   
  
"What about the whole speed thing?" Xander asked. "She smacked my arrow away like she was Wonder Woman. How can she do that?"  
  
"Frankly, we don't know," Giles said.   
  
"There are many stories, of course," Sarah added. "Some say she was struck by lightning at the moment she was turned. Others say it is the type of demon she harbors, something with unearthly speed. Though if such a demon exists, the Watchers are unaware of it."   
  
"Actually," Tara said, "Anya and I think she might have been like that even when she was human."   
  
Giles leaned towards Tara with intense interest. "What have you found?" he asked.   
  
Tara pulled out a few sheets printed from Anya's computer. "Okay. When we started our Web search on 'Walpurgis', we found a lot of stuff about Saint Walpurgis, who was a famous, devout abbess in the 700's."  
  
"Her big claim to fame," Anya added, "is that she's got her own holiday - Walpurgis Night. Though it's not really hers; it was a pagan holiday that got remodeled when Christianity came to town. Anyway, I remember people celebrating it in the springtime, back in the old days. Big bonfires, lots of drinking, lots of nookie." She paused and sniffled a little. "I really miss it."   
  
"Is there a point concealed within all of this?" Giles asked. "Because the Council is quite certain that Walpurgis the saint did not become Walpurgis the vampire."   
  
"No," Tara said, "no, she didn't. The dates are all wrong. But we did find a reference to another Walpurgis who looks like a good candidate. There's an old sword-fighting manual that was published in Germany in 1397. A Medieval sword club has the pictures on their website."  
  
Tara placed one of the printouts from Anya's computer on the table. It showed a picture of a man and a woman facing off with swords and small shields. The caption was virtually unreadable, as it was hand-written in a flowery script and had suffered the loss of clarity that comes from being scanned into a computer. And it was in Medieval German. Nonetheless, it was possible to make out the name "Walpurgis" in the text.   
  
The blonde witch turned the picture towards Xander and Giles. "So do you think that's her?" she asked.   
  
"This isn't exactly mug-shot quality," Xander said. "I can barely tell which one is the woman."  
  
"In fact," Giles said, "this may not even be a life drawing of Walpurgis, just a character given her name."  
  
"Right," Tara said. "But even so, she's the only female character in the whole book. A woman sword fighter would have to be awfully good to get her name in print like that, back in the Middle Ages, wouldn't she?"   
  
"You may be right," Giles said. "But according to our best accounts of Walpurgis' history, this book was published while she was still human."  
  
"Exactly," Tara said. "I'm just saying that maybe she was born that fast."  
  
"I suppose it's possible," Sarah said. "Unfortunately, we know nothing of Walpurgis' life as a human being. Other than what you may have uncovered, that is."   
  
Faith spoke up. "I don't see what's so special about her being able to stop an arrow. I mean, I've seen Ang-...other vampires do that."   
  
"Yeah," Xander answered, "but this was...she was a blur. One second I was shooting at her back - yeah, I'm the kind of guy who shoots vampires in the back - and the next, she was looking right at me, ordering the Surfing Dead to kill us all."   
  
"The what?" Faith asked.  
  
"Walpurgis' henchmen," Giles said. "They, ah, have a very particular style of speech and dress. Turned in the early eighties, I imagine."   
  
"Ooh!" Anya cried. "We found one other thing." She grabbed another sheet of paper out of Tara's hand and showed it to the group. It was an article, more than four months old, from the science section of an Internet news service. Before anybody could even read the complete title, Anya yanked it away and started to summarize it. "Back in March, somebody found a barrel on the beach in Maryland."   
  
Xander looked over at Tara. "Did you college kids have another kegger and forget to clean up?"   
  
"No!" Anya said, frustrated that Xander was making jokes while she was trying to show the group how smart she was. "Not a beer barrel. An old wooden barrel, or what was left of one. The metal hoopy things were still sort of holding it together, but it looked like it had been crushed by something. Anyhow, the top part of the barrel had a name burned into it - 'Gaviota', which is Spanish for 'seagull'. The experts who looked at the barrel said that, because of the way the barrel had been made and stuff, it was probably about five hundred years old. And that it had once had flour in it."   
  
Sarah perked up. "That doesn't make sense, for something so old to just wash up on shore."   
  
"I haven't gotten to the good part yet," Anya said. "The Gaviota was a trading ship that disappeared on its way back to Spain from Africa in 1513, the same year that Walpurgis' ship was sunk." Anya was practically beaming at her own cleverness.   
  
"Very interesting, Anya," Giles said, causing Anya to squeak with pride. "But what do you think it means?"   
  
"What does it mean?" Anya said loudly. "What do you mean, what does it mean? It means...things from 1513 are popping up!"   
  
Tara mercifully took over. "It might mean that...well, if Walpurgis' ship attacked the Gaviota on their way to the New World, maybe they took what was on board, including that barrel. They probably would have been happy to get some extra supplies for the trip."   
  
"Even if the barrel and Walpurgis' reappearance are connected," Giles said, "that doesn't explain where they've been all this time. Or why they would show up on opposite sides of the continent."   
  
"No, it doesn't," Sarah agreed. "However, I believe that right now, we should discuss our next move."   
  
"How 'bout some recon?" Faith suggested. "Once the sun goes down, I mean. Sounds like this chick's been all over town; I'm bound to find her."   
  
"All right, Faith," Sarah said. "Find her if you can, and try to discover her hideout, but do NOT try to take her on until we can learn more about her weaknesses."   
  
"Sure," Faith said casually.   
  
Sarah looked harder at Faith. "I am quite serious, Faith," Sarah said. "Walpurgis has killed Slayers before."   
  
This statement drew Faith's full attention. "How many?" she asked.  
  
"Three. That we know of," Sarah replied.   
  
Faith was stunned. "Right," she said. "Recon only. Gotcha."   
  
Sarah turned to Giles. "Mr. Giles, I'm afraid I must raise the awkward subject of accommodations. Faith's departure from prison was not precisely legal-"  
  
"There's a surprise," Xander muttered to Anya.  
  
"-and I am fairly certain that I am, at the very least, wanted for questioning in her disappearance. So I'm afraid staying in a motel is simply not possible."   
  
"I see," Giles said. "Well, doctor, you are certainly welcome to stay in my guest room. It's...recently vacated. As for Faith," Giles turned and looked at Xander, "Xander, you have a spacious flat. Perhaps-"  
  
"What?! I mean, um, yeah, my- my futon couch folds out," Xander said.  
  
"What?!" Anya repeated. "All right, I've tried to be really understanding about all this-"  
  
"Yes," Giles cut in, his voice dry with irony. "Your behavior this morning certainly reflected that."  
  
"But there is no way that, that, MURDERER is going to stay at Xander's apartment!"   
  
Faith's eyes widened slightly. She had almost forgotten what that word sounded like...FELT like, when it was directed at her.   
  
"An," Xander said, "Giles wouldn't have asked for Faith to come here if he thought she would hurt anybody." He glanced over at Giles, as if to say, Right?  
  
"Xander, don't be stupid!" Anya screamed, getting more and more worked up. "Giles doesn't know anything! Why do you think Buffy ended up-"   
  
For the first time ever, Anya Christina Emanuella Jenkins stopped herself from speaking.   
  
"I..." she said. "I need to go...check the mail."   
  
She went into the back. No one pointed out that it was Sunday, when there would be no mail. Or that the mail slot was on the front door.   
  
"Sorry," Xander said, not looking at anyone in particular. Then he looked over at Faith.   
  
"Look, you stay at my place, and I'll stay over at Anya's. Then you'll have a real bed, and I'll have a sane girlfriend. Relatively speaking."   
  
"Oh. Yes, ah, good idea," Giles said. He suddenly seemed a bit dazed, like he'd been struck in the head and hadn't quite realized it. "Anya and I have a couple more hours to work; perhaps you could take Faith to your flat and help her get settled in."  
  
"Alone?" Xander blurted, then quickly recovered. "Right, sure, no problem. Here," he said to Faith, throwing her his keys, "throw your stuff in the car. I'll be there in a minute."   
  
"Sure," Faith said. She walked out the door with her brand-new duffel bag containing a brand-new set of clothes and toiletries, supplied to her by the Council agent who had brought Faith and Sarah to Sunnydale.   
  
As Sarah got up to return to the loft for further perusal of Giles' collection of manuscripts, Xander leaned over to Giles and said, very quietly, "If she kills me, I will haunt you in the worst way. This is the Hellmouth; I can do that."   
  
-----  
  
Xander and Faith drove in silence for more than two minutes before either of them spoke.  
  
"So, uh, how's Willow? Giles said she was sick."   
  
"Yeah," Xander said tonelessly. "Nobody knows what's wrong."   
  
"That...must be hard for Tara."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"She looks like she's dealing, though."   
  
"She's been part of the gang for a while now," Xander said. He never even glanced in Faith's direction. "She knows sometimes you just have to suck it up and keep working."   
  
"I know what you mean," Faith said.   
  
  
  
"Right," Xander said, not meaning it at all.  
  
"This one time," Faith said, "these demons got loose in the cafeteria, and they hurt my best friend Sonya really bad. I didn't know if she was going to make it. But I had to let somebody else handle it and kill the demons, or else ALL my friends would have ended up dead."   
  
"Wait a sec," Xander said. "There were demons in jail?"   
  
"Long story," Faith said. "But yeah, there's some weirdness in there. One time, I had to fight this slime demon that came up through the sewer pipes into the showers. Just when I thought my naked slaying days were over." Faith chuckled. "And once, me an' Sarah had to exorcise this ghost who haunting one of the cells and making everybody who lived in it go crazy. Oh, and then there was the guard who became a vampire."   
  
"Huh," Xander said. "I didn't think there'd be so much action in prison. The supernatural kind, I mean."   
  
"Yeah, well, prison attracts the worst of everything. Human and not."  
  
Xander said nothing. Another minute went by in silence.  
  
"Xander," Faith said. "I just want to say-"  
  
"Don't," Xander said.   
  
"But-"  
  
"Just don't, OK?" Xander took a breath. "Willow's really sick, there's a scary super-vamp on the loose, Dawn is gone, and my girlfriend is worried I'm going to be raped and murdered - not necessarily in that order - in my own apartment. My personal tachometer is deep in the red zone, so lay off the gas."  
  
They pulled into the driveway of Xander's complex. Xander took his house key off its ring and handed it to Faith without looking at her. "It's number 218," he said. "I changed the sheets on the bed this morning, and the towels are in the cabinet next to the bathroom sink."   
  
"Oh," Faith said. "Thanks."   
  
He doesn't even trust me enough to go in with me, she thought.   
  
"I'm gonna go see Willow," Xander said. "She's been alone all day in the Immunology ward."  
  
"Yeah. Catch you later."  
  
Faith got out of the car, and Xander drove away without another word.   
  
-----  
  
Willow had been pronounced stable and moved from the ICU to an inpatient room. The duty nurse allowed Xander to go in and see her, but required him to wear a surgical mask because of Willow's compromised immune system.   
  
Tara was already there when Xander walked into the room, also wearing a yellow mask. Xander pulled up a chair next to Tara's at Willow's bedside.   
  
"Hey, you," Xander said warmly.   
  
"Hey," Willow replied. She sounded half-asleep, but was nonetheless smiling a little at having the two people she loved best at her side.  
  
"We sure do like to hang around this place," Xander said. "I'm not sure if it's the food or the come-take-my-temperature nightgowns."   
  
"Well, I just came for the masks," Tara said. "Great for road trips to L.A."   
  
Willow chuckled weakly. "Thanks," she said. "My busy day of ceiling-watching has definitely put me in the mood for some humor. Though I did find a crack in the corner that looks like Rutger Hauer, or maybe Nancy Reagan, I'm not sure."   
  
Xander smiled, and Tara patted Willow affectionately.   
  
"How's it going with the slaying?" Willow said.   
  
"Well, we've got this new vamp chick in town who's pretty bad-ass," Xander said.   
  
"Really?" Willow said. Her eyes opened wider, and she was suddenly animated by anxiety. "I- I should help you."  
  
"Don't worry," Tara quickly added. "We've got it under control. The Watchers got Faith out of jail to help us."  
  
"FAITH?" Willow shrieked, rapidly making the transition from anxiety to outright fear. "That's like throwing gasoline on a fire! Or liquid hydrogen!" Willow threw her legs over the side of the bed. "Where are my clothes?" she demanded.   
  
"Honey, you can't leave the hospital," Tara said. "You're really sick."   
  
"But, but, you can't trust Faith, she's bad!" Willow cried as she stood up. "She's badness in human form and, and sleazy pants! I have to help you!"   
  
"Will," Xander said loudly, Willow's anxiety beginning to evoke his own, "it's okay, just get back into bed. We can handle it."   
  
"No! No, you need me. I can't stay here when you need me!" Willow was now officially freaking. She walked rapidly towards the door until one ankle caught behind the other and she fell to the floor. Tara and Xander ran to her sides and lifted her up. Her eyelids were drooping, and she seemed delirious.   
  
"I have to, to help," she murmured desperately. "I'm the big gun...she said I was the big gun..."  
  
"Hey!" A voice cried from the doorway. Tara and Xander turned their heads to see the duty nurse standing in the doorway, pulling a mask over her face. "What is she doing out of bed?" The large woman strode over to Willow and single-handedly hauled her back to the hospital bed. She turned her head to glare at Tara and Xander.   
  
"Out!" she demanded. "This patient doesn't need anyone upsetting her right now."   
  
"B-but..." Tara began, but the stern look on the nurse's face told her it would be useless to argue further.   
  
"Come on," Xander said quietly. "We'll come back later."   
  
Reluctantly, Tara followed Xander down the hall to the elevators.  
  
-----  
  
At about eight o'clock, the sun was well below the horizon, and Faith began her patrol.   
  
She hadn't really seen the necessity of starting so early. The real vamp action didn't usually get started until at least midnight, when the humans were more tired, more drunk, and more likely to be alone. But Sarah had insisted, saying that Faith needed to get reacquainted with the geography of Sunnydale.   
  
As Faith walked around, though, she found that she needed little reminding. So many places had memories attached. The crypt where she'd fought Lagos, the little graveyard where she'd first encountered the cult of the Eliminati, the ruins of the high school. And then, downtown, the grimmer memories: the alley where she'd murdered Allan Finch and taken her first step down into the dark, and City Hall, where she had met a man whom she was only too eager to follow the rest of the way down.   
  
The guilt gets less painful, Faith thought, but it never goes away.   
  
Faith crossed through the center of town and headed north, towards another set of graveyards. For the zillionth time, Faith marveled at the sheer amount of real estate that was devoted to the dead portion of Sunnydale's populace. She was willing to bet that somebody out there was making a fortune reselling cemetery plots after the original occupants climbed out and stumbled away.   
  
Hey, speaking of, she thought. In one corner of the graveyard she'd just entered, she saw dirt giving way as someone - or more accurately, an ex-someone - dug itself out of its resting place.   
  
Faith dashed towards the vampire, hoping to stake it before it could get out of its grave and orient itself. The monster's already hideous face was twisted with the mindless hunger and rage of the newly-risen.   
  
It swiped at Faith with all its strength. She ducked, cracked a jab against its chin, then leaped up and kicked it square in the chest. The creature stumbled back and fell over its own gravestone. Before it could rise again, Faith slammed a stake into its chest.   
  
Brushing the vamp-dust off the plain, black T-shirt and jeans the Council agent had given her, Faith felt a surge of satisfaction. She hadn't had a good slay in a while. There weren't a tenth as many demons in prison as there were on the Hellmouth. Punching bags and target pads were fine, but they was no substitute for a real demonic opponent. Even if it was a whacked-out newbie like this one.  
  
Just then, Faith heard voices from somewhere beyond the entrance to the graveyard. She slipped behind a mausoleum and listened as the voices grew nearer.   
  
"...turned him late last night," a male voice said, "so he ought to rise up any time now."  
  
"He's an architect, like you asked for," said another young man's voice.   
  
"Good." This was spoken by a woman with some kind of European accent. "He will be hungry when he wakes. We will get him someone to eat, and then we will find the other target."   
  
Faith dared to peek for a moment around the side of the mausoleum to see three vampires approaching - two males in Hawaiian shirts, and a female in sweatpants and a black, pinstriped jacket that might once have been part of a man's suit. Is that Walpurgis? Faith wondered. Giles had said that she was German or something, and this vamp definitely sounded foreign.   
  
The Slayer pulled her head back out of view, but she could hear the footsteps now as they drew close to the dusted vampire's empty grave. "Uh, Val? Jake?" one of the men said, "I think somebody got to him first."   
  
Jake sniffed the air. "Yeah, Bobby," he said, "I smell dead vamp. Bummer."   
  
Walpurgis sighed, then looked around on the ground. "I see no arrows," she said.   
  
"Then it probably wasn't those three weezes we saw last night," Bobby replied. "I bet those guys don't even go to the john without their crossbows."   
  
"Who else could have done it?" the woman asked.   
  
"Lessee," Bobby said, "Slayer's dead, Spike's gone, and we know it wasn't the witch. That only leaves one person." He held a finger in the air and grinned.   
  
"Aw, not this again," Jake moaned.   
  
"Kolchak!" Bobby cried.  
  
"Koll-chok?" Walpurgis asked. "A demon lord, perhaps?"  
  
"Bobby, man, for the eight millionth time, THE NIGHT STALKER was just a TV show," Jake said.   
  
"Yeah, but it was based on a real guy!" Bobby declared.   
  
"No it wasn't!" Jake replied.   
  
"Yes it was! He killed vampires and witches and stuff all the time! And half the things that were on the show? Right here on the Hellmouth, baby." Bobby grinned.   
  
"Boys," Walpurgis cut in, "You may tell me of the demon Kolchak later. We have more work to do."   
  
"Right."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Walpurgis began to walk back towards the arched gateway of the cemetery, Bobby and Jake close behind. Faith followed at a distance, keeping at the forefront of her mind the two rules for shadowing vampires: stay downwind, and don't count on the dark to hide you.  
  
-----  
  
"Do you think she's OK?" Tara said, taking a sip of what tasted like day-old coffee in the hospital cafeteria.   
  
"Yeah," Xander replied, his voice a bit tight. "She just got faint, that's all. No big deal."  
  
Xander had no idea what he was talking about, and Tara knew it. But she didn't challenge his statement, because she knew he needed to believe it as much as she did. The bond between him and Willow was extremely interesting to Tara, and though at times she thought she ought to feel threatened by it, she never really did. She knew they had had an affair in high school, but Tara believed that they had done so only because they hadn't yet understood the nature of the powerful feelings that connected them. Tara could see people's auras sometimes, and she could even see the result when two people's auras touched each other. She thought of these in terms of the elements. Casual acquaintance was transient, like air; sexual and romantic passion flared like fire; friendship and familial love flowed like water. But what was between Willow and Xander was pure earth - trust and loyalty like bedrock, deeply hidden at times, but utterly indestructible.   
  
Xander's voice brought Tara back up from the depths of thought. "Do you think we should go home?" he asked halfheartedly. "Visiting hours are long over."   
  
"I know," Tara said. "I just- I don't want to leave without knowing if she's OK."  
  
Xander's eyes shifted left and right, and then back to Tara's. "Maybe we could sneak up," he said. "Just for a quick look."   
  
Tara nodded. They tossed their paper coffee cups into the trash and headed for the cafeteria exit. Then Xander stopped so quickly that Tara bumped into him from behind.   
  
"Uh oh," he said quietly. Tara looked over his shoulder to see what was the matter. In the corridor outside the cafeteria, three people walked in a triangle - a woman in a black suit jacket at the front, and two very familiar men in bad tourist gear right behind her.   
  
"That's them," Xander whispered. "Walpurgis and the Surf Nazis."   
  
"What do we do?" Tara asked.   
  
Xander turned his head to the right. "I'd say go for help," he said, "but I guess it's already here."   
  
Faith was walking rapidly up the hallway, perhaps fifty feet behind the vamps and closing. As the three vampires pushed the button for the elevator, Faith caught up to them and stood there with them, waiting like any other hospital visitor.   
  
Damn, Xander thought, she got smooth while she was in the slammer. The last thing Xander had ever expected from Faith was subtlety, but standing by the elevators with three bloodthirsty killers, she was cool as fresh lemonade. Not like the psycho-bitch who had nearly choked the life out of him in her own motel bed.   
  
Yeah, Xander's inner voice said, but let's not take any chances, OK?   
  
The elevator arrived, and Faith got on it with the three vampires. As the doors closed, Xander realized that he still had no idea what to do. He didn't even know what the vampires were doing here.   
  
But it wouldn't hurt to check Willow's room.   
  
-----  
  
Faith watched the elevator doors close and noted that the vampires had pushed the button for the fourth floor. She pushed the button for the eighth floor and waited.   
  
She didn't know for certain what the vamps were up to, but she guessed they weren't bringing anybody a get-well card. Faith also knew that Willow was somewhere in the building. Maybe that was a coincidence. Maybe not.   
  
Sarah had told Faith not to fight Walpurgis yet. But if the she-vamp was here to kill Willow, or anybody else for that matter, Faith would have to try to stop her. That wouldn't be easy, especially not with her two goons backing her up.   
  
The elevator beeped, and the doors opened at the fourth floor. Faith looked into the hallway; a sign up near the ceiling read "Immunology".   
  
Damn, Faith thought. They ARE here for Willow.   
  
Faith waited for Walpurgis to step out of the elevator. Then she stepped in front of Jake and Bobby and sprang into the air. Kicking back with both legs like a mule, she slammed a heel into each of the male vampires' chests. The two men slammed back into the rear wall of the elevator while Faith shot forward through the air like Supergirl.   
  
Faith tried to tackle Walpurgis. The vampire turned and circled her hands gracefully, partly deflecting the Slayer to the right while taking a half-step to the left. Faith hit the floor and rolled rapidly to her feet. The two opponents turned to face each other just as the elevator doors closed in front of Jake and Bobby.   
  
"I see some things do not change," Walpurgis said. "You are a Slayer?"  
  
"THE Slayer," Faith replied. "Since you're obviously in the middle of a fashion emergency" - Faith glanced at Walpurgis' pinstriped suit jacket - "I won't bug you with the details. I'll just jab this sharp stick through your chest."   
  
Faith reached behind her and pulled a stake out of the waistband of her jeans. Her hand suddenly smarted; there was a small crash as the stake smashed into a glass cabinet to Faith's right. The Slayer realized that Walpurgis had just kicked the stake out of her hand, and Faith had barely even seen it happen.   
  
She backed off a little, giving herself a moment to think. Don't try any fancy stuff, she thought, just stick with the quick moves.   
  
Faith leaped forward into punching range and threw a series of jabs at Walpurgis. The vampire backed away as she blocked or ducked each punch. Then, as Faith made a jab to Walpurgis' jaw, the vampire grabbed the Slayer's wrist and used both her own strength and Faith's to hurl the Slayer more than twenty feet down the hall. Faith landed hard on her tailbone and skidded a few more feet before rolling backwards and using the momentum to stand up.   
  
The Slayer decided to go defensive. Maybe letting Walpurgis attack first would give Faith the opening she needed.   
  
The vampire rushed forward and sprang into a jumping front kick. Faith blocked it only to take Walpurgis' follow-up roundhouse kick in the side of her head. The Slayer fell back, but Walpurgis stayed with her, pummeling her senseless with punches and kicks that were faster than Faith could possibly follow. Finally, Walpurgis knocked Faith to her knees with a punch to the stomach, then grabbed the Slayer by her hair and smashed her face into the wall of the corridor. Faith fell to the ground, nearly unconscious.   
  
There was a commotion from somewhere back down the hall. Faith's blurry vision showed someone being thrown backwards through the stairwell door next to the elevators. She couldn't quite see who the flying figure was, but the yell it made was distinctively Xander's. The Slayer realized that Xander must have been coming up the stairs when Jake and Bobby were coming down. She watched helplessly as Xander tried to roll onto his knees, just in time to be kicked in the head by one of the two Hawaiian-shirted vampires who came out of the stairwell after him. Xander fell over backwards, obviously down for the count.   
  
The two male vamps walked up to Walpurgis. "We caught that little freak on the stairs," Jake said, pointing at Xander's splayed, unconscious form.   
  
"Yeah, and his girlfriend's taking a nap in the stairwell," Bobby added. "Man, she's gonna wake up with, like, concrete face."   
  
Walpurgis looked down at Faith. "Gentlemen," she said, "your town has a new Slayer."   
  
"Whoa, another one?" Bobby said. "The other one just died. They must have sent this one Federal Express."   
  
"Precisely the problem," Walpurgis said. "You kill one, another will come. And, no matter how skilled you are, or how careful, one will eventually be lucky enough to kill you. So," she said, again looking down at Faith, "perhaps it is better to keep the Slayer you know, and simply discourage her."   
  
Walpurgis raised her foot and brought it down on Faith's knee. The pain stabbed through Faith's delirium like a spear, and the Slayer shrieked. Faith didn't even have time to draw breath for a second scream before the vampire raised her foot again and smashed Faith's other knee. Then the sole of Walpurgis' shoe slammed down on Faith's head, and the world went dark.   
  
END CHAPTER 3 


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4   
  
"This is a stupid, stupid book," Sarah Reynolds said, dropping the book a bit harder than she meant to on Giles' coffee table. "There's no logic to the ordering of chapters, no chronology, and the genuinely useful bits are so scattered that they almost aren't worth looking for."   
  
"I can see why you might think so, at first glance," Giles responded as he walked down the stairs. "But Dave Barry is really quite entertaining once you get used to his style."   
  
Sarah looked up at Giles and the stack of old books cradled in his arms. He set these down on the coffee table next to DAVE BARRY'S BOOK OF BAD SONGS.   
  
"I prefer to keep some of the more vampire-intensive volumes here at home," Giles explained. "You can imagine the calls I ge- used to get, sometimes, in the dead of night, when Buffy needed some bit of information. I'd keep these at my bedside, next to my glasses."   
  
Sarah looked up at Giles sympathetically, then looked back down at the pile of books. Amid the well-aged brown and black covers, she saw a bit of fresh white paper sticking out.   
  
She moved a few books aside to reveal a catalogue, the cover of which read, "UC Sunnydale Summer Enrichment Courses For Junior High and High School Students". The catalogue was open to a page of course descriptions with the heading "Grades 7-9" at the top. Several selections which described classes in writing, theater, music, and art were circled.   
  
"Oh!" said Giles. "I'm so sorry. I was...looking that not long ago. I must have tossed it in with the books by mistake."   
  
"Who were these for?" Sarah asked, holding up the page with the circled items.   
  
"Oh, ah, Buffy's younger sister, Dawn. She stayed with me for a while after Buffy died. Her father came to take custody of her yesterday."   
  
"Yesterday? Didn't Buffy die nearly a month ago?"   
  
"Mr. Summers had been out of contact for some time. More than a year, actually. I wasn't entirely certain we would ever hear from him again."   
  
"And then he just swept in and took Dawn away?"   
  
"Well...he did call first."   
  
"That must have made you angry."   
  
"No," Giles said a little too quickly. "No, I just...got used to having her here."   
  
"I can imagine," Sarah said. "Young people do have a way of filling up a place."   
  
"Yes," Giles said, nodding absently.   
  
A moment passed. Giles stared at the floor.   
  
"You were hoping you could keep her," Sarah said.   
  
Giles took a deep breath. "Yes," he said, not looking up.   
  
"You hoped her father wouldn't come back."   
  
"Yes," Giles repeated dully.   
  
There were another few seconds of silence.   
  
"How- how could I have wished for such a thing?" Giles said suddenly. "What kind of man desires to keep a child apart from her father? It was selfish and stupid of me to-"   
  
"No," Sarah broke in. "It wasn't."   
  
Giles looked up at her.   
  
"You were willing," Sarah went on, "to devote years of your life to taking care of someone to whom you had no legal relationship or responsibility. That is the very opposite of selfishness, Mr. Giles."   
  
Giles was about to deny what Sarah had said, when he realized that the urge to do so only came from a perverse desire to punish himself. Instead, he allowed himself to say, "Thank you. And...please, call me Rupert."   
  
"Then you may call me Sarah," she replied, and though the words themselves were formal, there was unmistakable warmth beneath them.   
  
They looked at each other for a moment.   
  
"Well," Giles said, taking a half-step back to shake off the awkward intimacy of the moment, "perhaps we should get cracking on these books. If there is any more to be learned about Walpurgis, it might be best to find it now."   
  
"Of course," Sarah said. She took a seat on Giles' couch and opened a heavy volume. Then she sighed. "Though I doubt these books will explain how Walpurgis returned from her journey to the bottom of the ocean."   
  
"The bottom of the ocean..." Giles repeated with a faraway look in his eyes. Then he snapped his fingers and looked at Sarah. "I am so bloody stupid."   
  
"What?" Sarah said.   
  
"If Walpurgis survived the explosion aboard her ship, she would have sunk with vessel to the ocean floor. If that happened in a place where the ocean is particularly deep-"   
  
"-where there is no sunlight," Sarah added, catching on, "and no living things to disturb her-"   
  
"-and where the ocean temperature is cold enough to preserve a corpse, or a vampire, indefinitely," Giles finished, "she would be unconscious and unmoving, but also safe from every threat to her unlife."   
  
"Of course," Sarah said, nodding. "But SOMETHING must have disturbed her, or she would still be down there. What could do that?"   
  
"A hurricane?" Giles suggested.   
  
"I don't think a even hurricane could stir the ocean at that depth," Sarah answered. "Some sort of geological activity, perhaps?"   
  
"Yes!" Giles agreed. "A volcanic eruption, or the opening of a - what do you call them - an undersea vent. The sudden heating of the water could lift her from the bottom."   
  
"And the heat would awaken her," Sarah added. "The U.S. Geological Survey might have that sort of information. Perhaps they have a website."   
  
"I'll call Anya and put her on it immediately. In the meantime, you and I had best continue our search in these books. If our hypothesis is correct, then whatever useful information exists about Walpurgis comes from the distant past."   
  
Sarah sat back down to her research as Giles dialed Anya, tearing the resentful ex-demon away from watching MONEYLINE and putting her to work.   
  
-----   
  
The two Watchers had been buried in text for almost an hour when the phone rang.   
  
"Hello?" Giles answered, expecting news from Anya.   
  
"I hear fighting...down the hall," a feeble voice said.   
  
Giles recognized the speaker despite the low volume of her voice. "Willow?"   
  
"Someone's screaming...I think- Oh no!"   
  
Through the phone line, Giles heard a clattering sound. Willow had dropped the receiver.   
  
Giles didn't wait to hear any more. He hung up and looked at Sarah long enough to say, "We've an emergency." Then Giles dashed upstairs and returned in mere seconds with two crossbows, a case of bolts, and a pair of stakes. By that time, Sarah had thrown on her coat and checked the inside pocket for the cross and vial of holy water she generally kept there.   
  
"What's going on?" Sarah cried.   
  
"I think we've just discovered what Walpurgis wants," Giles said darkly, and then they were out the door.   
  
-----   
  
Willow blinked to clear the blear of illness from her eyes as she looked at the three figures in the doorway of her hospital room. The woman who stood at the front of the group looked fairly ordinary, except for the odd suit jacket she had on. The two men behind her, on the other hand, had yellow eyes and crinkly foreheads. Not good.   
  
The witch held up her hand and, in the loudest voice she could manage, hissed, "Thicken."   
  
Walpurgis reached out and touched the wall of distorted air between herself and the red-haired woman. The vampire pushed hard, and her arm forced its way through the barrier, dissipating it.   
  
"You are too weak for such magics now," Walpurgis said, stepping forward unimpeded. "But soon you will be strong again." She looked at her two followers. "Gag her and bring her, please," she said.   
  
"You're not gonna do her here?" Jake asked.   
  
"No. We must not take the chance that she will be killed the moment she rises, as the architect was. I will turn her where we can watch over her."   
  
Jake grabbed a rag from his back pocket and shoved it into Willow's mouth, then lifted the witch's skinny body and slung it over his shoulder.   
  
Walpurgis stepped back out into the hallway and looked towards the elevators. The Slayer and the boy from the stairwell were still on the floor. A doctor hung over them, shouting at nurses for gurneys, morphine, and a call down to Radiology for x-rays.   
  
Just then, one of the elevator doors opened. A uniformed police officer stepped out into the corridor, gun drawn, just as Jake and Bobby emerged into the hallway with Willow.   
  
"Freeze!" The cop yelled. "Hands in the air! Now!"   
  
The doctor kneeling over Faith and Xander fell down on top of them, trying to protect them and get out of the line of fire himself.   
  
Walpurgis began to raise her hands slowly. When they were halfway up, she suddenly reached back and drew her short sword from behind her right shoulder. Lunging to the side, she hurled the sword end-over-end at the cop.   
  
The officer got one shot off, but the bullet missed Walpurgis and hit the wall at the end of the hallway. Then the cop screamed and fell when the sword pierced his chest. A pool of bright-red arterial blood began to expand rapidly over the white hospital floor.   
  
The vampire swordswoman turned to her two followers. "Let us go quickly. The police cannot harm us, but they could kill the girl by accident."   
  
The trio strode towards the elevators, trying not to step in the policeman's blood.   
  
-----   
  
The world was bouncing. And upside-down. And it tasted bad.   
  
Willow watched the pavement go by as her captors carried her through the hospital parking garage. She began to realize how completely helpless she was. Her arms were pinned by the vampire carrying her, and she couldn't speak or incant because of the waxy-tasting rag in her mouth. Not that it mattered much anyway; her air-condensing spell had held Walpurgis back about as effectively as a shower curtain.   
  
Soon, Willow was placed in the back seat of a turquoise SUV with a large roof rack. The two male vamps got in the front, while the female slid into the seat next to Willow.   
  
"I am Walpurgis," the woman said. "I have taken you to make you part of my family."   
  
She wants to make me a vampire, Willow thought, her mind still hazy. With the evil and the skankiness and the deep, tasteless cleavage. Oh, not good.   
  
Walpurgis leaned closer. "I admire witches. You take the power of the universe and bend it to your will. That is a great achievement."   
  
Yeah, feeling real powerful right now, Willow thought. If I concentrate really hard, I might be able to make your nose itch.   
  
"I have only cast one spell in my lifetime, and though it was successful, great sacrifice was necessary," Walpurgis went on. "But that was a time of many fewer choices. Today, you can decide if you want to be a witch or lawyer or a seller of track lighting. Back then, you did what you were born into."   
  
What is it with villains and speeches? Willow thought. Of course, talking is better than giving me a fatal hickey, so I'm not complaining.   
  
"Most of us were born to be slaves," Walpurgis continued. "The nobles never called us that, of course, but they owned us nonetheless. We farmed their land and gave them the fruit of our sweat and blood, though we ourselves were nearly starving.   
  
"Most infuriating of all were the knights. They were supposed to be our protectors, but instead they spent their many idle hours riding through our fields during their fox hunts and other ridiculous games. They trampled the vegetables that we had struggled to nurture in overused soil, they broke our fences, and they killed our animals or frightened them away.   
  
"One day, my husband heard them coming and went outside to ask them to stop. It was an incredibly bold thing to do; to the knights, we were little more than earthworms. Looking back on it now, I suppose I should not have been surprised when one of the knights cut off my husband's head without even slowing his horse.   
  
"But I was surprised. And angry. I saw which knight had done it, and I vowed to seek justice. But the judges in the courts answered to the nobles; I had no hope of a fair hearing there. The only other option was a judicial duel, which I could not hope to win.   
  
"That night, I went into the woods to see the one we called Die Alte - The Old One. A witch. I gave her all the money I had, which was very little, but she still told me what I needed to know: that Satan himself would help me if I gave him my most precious possessions. I had only two. I pledged him the first - my soul - then and there. And then I went home and gave him the other half of his price, with as much skill as I had. It was enough. Not one of my children awoke before my knife was in their hearts."   
  
Willow's eyes widened with horror. Walpurgis looked at her.   
  
"They would have died anyway. We all would have. I had no relatives alive to help us, and no neighbors who could afford to do so. Without my husband to work the fields with us, we would have starved.   
  
"The next day, I challenged my husband's murderer to a duel. He accepted, of course. A peasant woman against a man trained from birth to kill? Hardly a contest, though I am sure he thought it would be an interesting diversion.   
  
"The judge gave me a worn sword and shield and sent me off to what he must have thought was my death. I even saw a hint of pity in his eyes.   
  
"On the field, the knight played with me. He let me attack, never countering, only laughing at the feebleness of my blows as he turned them away. I knew that he would kill me the moment the game ceased to amuse him.   
  
"That knowledge filled me with rage, and that was when Lucifer's gift arose in me. My next cut went beneath the knight's shield and wounded his leg, faster than even I could see. Before I knew it, I had sliced open his stomach and dropped him to the ground. But I kept attacking, wildly, blindly, losing all sense of time and place. The last moment of the fight I remember was being pulled off the dead knight as I stabbed at his eyes, over and over.   
  
"I fled into the forest. I knew the other knights would want revenge, since they cared only about their comrades and never about what was just. Furthermore, I did not know if my gift would last.   
  
"But it did. I was faster than anyone alive. That, along with the sword I had kept from the duel, was all I needed. I stayed in the forest and became a robber, stealing from merchants and travelers. Those who resisted, I killed. Those who did not, I simply robbed and allowed to depart. This proved to be a wise policy, because the survivors spread word of me throughout the land. Even our local lord heard about me, and was so incensed at my boldness that he sent half a dozen knights to kill me. But they were not at home in the forest. I circled through the woods and separated them, then dispatched them one by one.   
  
"My legend grew even more after that. People romanticized me, calling me Walpurgis, the Knight-Killer, the Bandit Queen. I even attracted followers. They were mostly other serfs whom I had inspired to leave their dreary lives and seize their freedom. It was perhaps the best time of my life.   
  
"But I knew it would have to end. Lord Satan always keeps his word, but only to the letter. An early death awaited me, I was sure of that. Lucifer would not wait for me to die of old age before he took my soul.   
  
"One night, it happened. I woke up to the screams of my men as someone - something - killed them in their bedrolls. I had only just stood up when the vampires were on me. I fought, of course, but there were more than ten of them, I had only human strength, and all my followers were dead. The vampires overwhelmed me with their numbers and held me down as their leader came to drink my life's blood.   
  
"That was the night that I learned of the true greatness of the Dark One. Because He did, indeed, take my soul, but instead of taking my existence with it, He made me stronger and even faster than I had been."   
  
Walpurgis looked into Willow's eyes. "You must be wondering why I am telling you all of this."   
  
Willow nodded. Oh yes, I'm fascinated, she thought. Please, keep telling me your very interesting story while I wait for...somebody...to come rescue me.   
  
"Tonight," Walpurgis said, "you will become my daughter, the child of my blood. But your body will die, and your little wisp of a soul will drift off to Heaven. When it gets there, I want it to find its Creator, and give Him this message:   
  
"You did this. You, and your spawn - humanity - made me become this. If You want to know evil, look no further than Your own hands, for they are stained with the blood of your creation. Humanity is a disease that ever infects itself, turns on itself, enslaves and degrades and destroys itself. What is a vampire or a demon compared to that? What evil exists that can possibly be worse than what You Yourself have made? The Kingdom of Heaven may be Yours forever, but know that the kingdom of Earth shall be mine. And I will ensure that human beings are put in their proper place. I will change them back into the stupid, ignorant cattle you made them to be, and they will know nothing but service and death for all eternity. For I know now that that is all they can ever be, for that is the way You made them."   
  
A moment passed. The only sounds were those of the car and the road.   
  
"Uh, Val?" Bobby called from the passenger's seat, clearly hesitant to interrupt. "You wanna grab anybody else before we go home? I've got the whole list right here." He held up a few sheets of paper that were stapled together.   
  
"No," Walpurgis replied. "This one is important. We will take her back and turn her, then let the others watch over her while we collect the others."   
  
"That might be a problem," Jake said from behind the wheel. "I think Smokey wants a word with us."   
  
Willow could hear the sound of a siren somewhere behind the truck, growing closer. Soon she saw the flicker of red and blue lights.   
  
"Can you evade them?" Walpurgis asked. "It might be inconvenient if the police follow us to the studio."   
  
"No prob," said Jake, stamping on the gas.   
  
-----   
  
Sarah grasped the rally handle above the passenger's-side door as Giles' red BMW tore around the street corner far faster than the law allowed, then rocketed through two stop signs and a red light. The female Watcher was not entirely surprised to hear the sound of an approaching police siren.   
  
Giles' eyes were locked on the road. Sarah wondered if he would even stop for the police. Given the current emergency, and the fact that she was implicated in the prison break of a multiple felon, Sarah rather hoped he wouldn't.   
  
Then she saw that the blinking blue and red lights were somewhere up ahead, rather than behind. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief as a brightly-colored SUV sped by them in the other direction with the patrol car in pursuit.   
  
Her relief was short lived. Giles cried "Good Lord!" and stomped on the brakes so hard that the car turned sideways in the road, stopping inches from the base of a streetlight. Sarah stifled a scream.   
  
"Those were Walpurgis' minions!" Giles shouted. "I recognized those garish shirts of theirs. And they were coming from the direction of the hospital."   
  
Giles shoved the gearshift up to 'R' and make a sharp 90-degree backwards turn, pointing the small convertible in the direction the SUV and the police had gone. Then he yanked the shift back to 'D' and floored the gas pedal.   
  
-----   
  
Willow felt seasick. Jake had just braked hard for a turn and skidded around a corner, and now he was speeding up again.   
  
"Val!" Jake shouted. "I can't outrun the cops in this thing!"   
  
A police car suddenly pulled out from behind a building up ahead and stopped in the middle of the intersection. Jake jerked the wheel hard to the right and clipped the cop car; the rear bumper tore off and took the SUV's left headlight with it. More sirens sounded from somewhere up ahead.   
  
"Scheisse!" Walpurgis yelled. "Stop the car! We will have to fight."   
  
As Jake pulled the SUV into an alley, Walpurgis grabbed a length of rope from the back of the car and bound Willow's wrists and ankles together, wrapping them in a painful hog-tie. Then she reached over the back of her seat again and snatched up a sword almost a foot longer than the Roman-style short sword she had used earlier. Walpurgis also took out a circular shield about the size of a manhole cover. It was mainly wooden, but there was a dome-shaped steel boss in the center to cover the handle. Metal studs were hammered into the surface of the wood here and there for extra protection.   
  
Walpurgis, Jake, and Bobby got out of the car just as the black-and-white that had been behind them braked to a screaming stop. The three vamps were halfway to the police car by the time the driver could get out and point his sidearm at them. He looked wide-eyed at Walpurgis as she approached him with her sword and shield.   
  
"Police! Drop it!" he yelled, and fired. The bullet penetrated Walpurgis' shield and struck her in the chest, slowing her charge. Before he could get off another shot, Bobby knocked him down and shattered his skull against the pavement.   
  
Three more police cars pulled up in a line, spanning the street behind the dead officer's car. The drivers emerged from their vehicles with shotguns in hand.   
  
The moment they saw the hideous, vampiric faces of the two men standing over their dead colleague, the cops started firing. Jake and Bobby staggered and fell as blast after blast of 12-gauge shot hit them like punches from a huge, spiked fist. Bleeding profusely, the two vampires crawled into the alley and hid under their truck.   
  
Walpurgis, who had been behind Jake and Bobby and who had been shielded somewhat by their bodies, dove sideways as the nearest cop fired at her. He cocked his gun for another shot; she charged and knocked the shotgun from his hands with an upward cut of her sword. The subsequent downward stroke took off the man's right arm at the elbow. The officer began to scream, then a horizontal cut from Walpurgis' sword severed his vocal cords and carotid arteries. The man fell and rapidly bled out.   
  
No longer afraid of hitting their comrade, the other two officers fired at Walpurgis. The swordswoman sprang sideways, leaping in a 10-foot-high arc over the car of the first officer who had arrived at the scene. Walpurgis landed behind the vehicle and did not emerge.   
  
After several seconds, the two remaining police officers began to circle cautiously around the side of the car. "Come on out!" one of the officers, a short, dark-haired woman, shouted. "There's nowhere to go!"   
  
Just then, Sarah and Giles pulled up behind the line of police cars. Both officers turned their heads at the screech of the BMW's tires as it came to a rapid stop, then saw Giles and Sarah emerge from the vehicle.   
  
"Get out of here!" yelled the other officer, a very tall, slim white man with a crew cut. "We've got an armed suspect here!"   
  
Giles ignored the cop and turned to Sarah. She was standing at the ready with her crossbow loaded.   
  
"I need to get Willow out of there," Giles said. He pointed at the SUV. "Can you, uh, cover me?"   
  
Sarah hefted her crossbow and nodded.   
  
Giles ran to the truck and looked in the rear window. Willow lay across the back seat, arms and legs tied together in a way that looked uncomfortable at best. The male Watcher took a knife from his back pocket and cut the ropes, then pulled Willow's arm over his shoulder and helped the young witch to her feet.   
  
"Wait," Willow murmured. Giles bent closer to hear her.   
  
"Get that," she said. She pointed to some stapled sheets of paper that lay on the floor in front of the SUV's forward passenger's seat. Giles snatched up the papers and then began to help Willow to the BMW.   
  
At the same time, the two police officers circled around to either side of the car where Walpurgis was hiding. Just as the tall, thin cop caught sight of the vampire's crouching form, Walpurgis popped up and hurled her round shield at him like an oversized Frisbee. It hit the officer in the gut, making him double over. Walpurgis leaped at him and cut off his head before he could even straighten up.   
  
The other officer turned and fired her shotgun at Walpurgis' back. The cluster of shot hit the swordswoman between the shoulders and knocked her down. When Walpurgis tried to get up, the policewoman fired again, and again, keeping the vampire pinned to the ground.   
  
Giles and Willow had nearly reached the convertible when Sarah suddenly shouted, "Down!" Watcher and witch fell clumsily to the ground, from which Giles could see Bobby towering over them in full vamp-mode. Bobby snarled with feral glee as he prepared to rip Giles' throat out.   
  
There was a twang, and a crossbow bolt hit Bobby in the chest. The vampire looked down at the bolt as if wondering how a feathered stick had suddenly grown from his torso. Then he collapsed into dust.   
  
The policewoman who had been blasting Walpurgis ran out of ammunition. Walpurgis began to drag herself to her feet as the cop nervously tried to reload. The policewoman hadn't even gotten the shells out when Jake blindsided her. He knocked her to the ground, grabbed her shotgun, and smashed in her temple with the butt.   
  
Sarah drew back the string of her crossbow and loaded another bolt as Giles, with some effort, lifted Willow into the back seat of his convertible. All of the police officers were dead. Jake stood over the body of the last one killed, still holding her empty shotgun.   
  
He turned and looked at Sarah. Rage brightened his yellow eyes when he saw the pile of vampire dust a few yards in front of the female Watcher. Jake charged, screaming with fury.   
  
Sarah fired her crossbow. Jake very nearly took the bolt in the heart, but was jerked aside at the last moment. The bolt hit his upper arm instead.   
  
Walpurgis had run up behind him. She was covered in her own blood, but still looked quite well for someone who had been shot almost a dozen times. She gazed coldly at Sarah and Giles.   
  
"Watchers," she hissed. She took a step forward, then another, slowly.   
  
"Yes, well, time to go," Giles said with anxious mock-cheer. He leaped into his car and turned the ignition as Sarah jumped over the passenger's side door into her seat.   
  
Walpurgis charged, sword aloft. Giles hit the accelerator and drove straight at her. At the last moment, Walpurgis leaped straight up and over the BMW, landing behind it. Giles suddenly saw the flaw in his plan of vehicular attack as he smashed into the rear bumper of one of the police cars.   
  
Giles slammed the car into reverse, but too late. Walpurgis had jumped onto the trunk of the car and was climbing forward towards the two Watchers.   
  
Out of options, Giles drove backwards as fast as he could, then slammed on the brakes. The car spun, but Walpurgis' vampire strength kept her fastened to the back of the car. When the car straightened out, she began to crawl forward toward Sarah and Giles again, grinning with homicidal eagerness.   
  
Suddenly, Walpurgis screamed and clutched at her face, wet and smoking from Sarah's vialful of holy water.   
  
Giles gunned the engine. As the car shot forward, Walpurgis fell off the car and rolled to a stop on the pavement.   
  
Sarah looked over at Giles as they sped away. "That was terribly close," she said.   
  
"Far closer for Willow, I'm afraid," Giles replied. "We had better take her to my flat, and then see to the others." Giles gave a start. "Good Lord! Willow, are Xander and Tara all right?"   
  
But Willow had lost consciousness again.   
  
-----   
  
Faith was feeling no pain. Or much of anything, really. There was only a warm glow, accompanied by the slightest hint of queasiness. Faith knew the feeling from experience - it wasn't heroin, but it was something close.   
  
Her legs were stretched out in front of her. She tried to bend them, but they wouldn't cooperate. Each one felt like a felt bag of broken china stuffed into a thick mailing tube.   
  
Faith gave up on her legs for the moment and opened her eyes instead. She saw florescent lights and white ceiling panels.   
  
Hey, I remember this, she thought. It's the hospital. Man, I hope it took less than nine months to wake up this time. I wonder what happened while I was gone? Maybe Sarah moved back to England and got married and has kids and one of those little dogs that aren't good for anything. Oh, and maybe Xander forgave me, and he came and read to me every day while I was in a coma, and his screaming-bitch girlfriend got jealous and left him and when I wake up I'll know the entire story of MOBY DICK even though I only ever watched half an hour of that stupid movie of it on TNT.   
  
Faith turned her head. Xander was lying on a gurney next to her.   
  
Okay, Faith thought, unless me and Xander are coma buddies, maybe it hasn't been nine months.   
  
"Hey. Xander," she croaked.   
  
"Wha...Oh. Hey," Xander said, obviously also a bit out of it, though not in the same giddy, doped-up way as Faith.   
  
"I think...," Faith said, then looked down at her legs. Hard casts around both knees locked them straight. "...I've got two busted legs," she finished. "What you got? 'Cause I wanna trade."   
  
She felt as if she were a hundred miles away from Xander, talking through a tin can with a string attached. The image - along with the gigantic dose of morphine - made her want to giggle.   
  
"The usual," Xander replied. "A mild concussion. I should be out of here in a couple of hours, if nothing goes wrong."   
  
"Sounds like you're a regular customer 'round here," Faith said.   
  
"Yeah," Xander answered. "I think the nurses think I'm an extreme skateboarder or a street fighter or something. At least, I hope they do."   
  
Suddenly, a man's voice said, "Oh, thank God."   
  
Faith turned to see Giles walking rapidly towards her. Then he passed right by her and leaned over Xander. "Are you all right?" he asked.   
  
"I'm good," Xander said. "Another day, another bruise on my brain. No big deal. I'm gonna have to hang out for a while, though."   
  
"Faith!" another voice cried. Now it was Sarah who walked quickly towards Faith. "What happened?"   
  
"I got stomped," Faith said, sounding pouty rather than angry in her delirium. "Literally and meta...met...the other way."   
  
Sarah looked sternly down at Faith. "As I recall, I specifically instructed you not to engage Walpurgis. I thought you had more discipline than that."   
  
"I...I didn't..." Faith began abortively.   
  
"I was afraid of this," Giles added. "Impulsivity has always been one of Faith's failings. I had hoped that her time in prison and her additional training had enabled her to overcome it, but perhaps they haven't."   
  
Even through her near-blissful mental haze, Faith was stung by the two Watchers' words. And she was afraid that no amount of explanation would make them understand.   
  
Maybe that's just the way people are, she thought. They take their mental Polaroids of you and keep them forever. No matter how much you change, or how much you try to make things right, their idea of you stays the same.   
  
"It wasn't her fault," Xander said.   
  
Faith looked over at Xander, who was sitting up on his gurney and holding his head in obvious cranial discomfort.   
  
"Walpurgis was after Willow," Xander continued. "Faith had to do something. Tara and I tried to help, but when we got up to the fourth floor, the vampire Gidget groupies got to us first."   
  
Whoa, Faith thought, I must be really buzzed. I'm imagining that Xander is sticking up for me.   
  
"Wait a moment," Sarah said. "The fight happened here in the hospital?"   
  
"Yeah," Xander answered. "Faith followed the three vamps in from the street. I guess she was shadowing them."   
  
I'm the shadow of the vampire, Faith thought. Kewl.   
  
"Faith, is this correct?" Sarah asked.   
  
Faith nodded.   
  
Sarah put her hand on Faith's shoulder. "Then I owe you an apology," she said.   
  
"S'okay," Faith replied. "Jus' do one thing for me?"   
  
"Anything," Sarah said.   
  
"Scratch behind my knee. It itches like a sum'bitch."   
  
-----   
  
Half an hour later, Faith lay on Giles' couch while Giles, Sarah, and Anya sat in conference around the coffee table. They had put Willow upstairs, in Giles' room. Xander and Tara were still at the hospital but seemed to have no lasting injuries. Giles would go and pick them up shortly.   
  
"So," Anya said, taking the initiative, "turns out I was right. There was an underwater earthquake-eruption thingy in the middle of the Atlantic about four months ago. Must have stirred up Walpurgis. Hey, and that barrel, which SOME people thought wasn't important," she finished petulantly.   
  
"Yes, very good, Anya," Giles said absently.   
  
"But what else have we got?" Anya went on. "We're no better off now than we were before. Our Slayer is broken, Spike is still gone, Willow's still sick, and Walpurgis is still here. We're back at Pier One."   
  
"Square one," Giles corrected. "And we're not, entirely. We do have this." He reached into his jacket and took out the sheets of paper that he had taken from the vampires' car. He began to unfold them, but Anya snatched them away and pored over the front page.   
  
"Wow," the ex-demon said. "Walpurgis thinks big." She turned the page towards Giles and Sarah.   
  
It was a drawing of what appeared to be an underground city. Someone had taken a map of the sewers and tunnels of Sunnydale and shown how the existing passages could be extended and modified to connect an even larger number of caves, cellars, parking garages, and other subterranean structures than they already did. Furthermore, many new chambers were added to provide spacious living quarters and common areas that could accommodate a large population of vampires.   
  
Most disturbing was a large, domed chamber in the center of the complex. It was filled with tiny cages, and the few doors were drawn extra-thick. The area was labeled "Stockyards".   
  
"I don't imagine it's for cattle," Giles said.   
  
"No," Sarah agreed. "It's for us. For humans."   
  
"Mus' be why they wanted an architect," Faith murmured from the couch.   
  
Anya detached the page with the drawing and let Giles and Sarah continue examining it while she looked at the next one.   
  
"So what do we do now?" Giles said, wondering aloud more than asking anyone in particular.   
  
"Well," Sarah said, "even with her ability to heal rapidly, Faith won't be fully recovered for a week or so. So, until then, I suggest we-"   
  
Anya screamed.   
  
"Anya," Giles said with irritation, "what the devil is it?"   
  
Anya held her sheet of paper out to Giles, who took it from her. The heading on the page read, "To be turned:" and was followed by a list of about thirty names. The second was "Rosenberg, Willow".   
  
Twenty-third on the list was "Harris, Alexander".   
  
Anya looked at Giles and Sarah. Very quietly, she said, "We don't have a week."   
  
END CHAPTER 4


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5  
  
On the way back to Giles' house from the hospital, Giles explained the situation to Xander and Tara, including the fact that Xander's name was on Walpurgis' list of people to be turned into vampires. Giles expected that the news would upset Xander, and it certainly did.   
  
"That's just great," Xander said. "Walpurgis wants to make me a vampire, but she puts me twenty-third on a list of thirty, so I feel both threatened AND unappreciated." He paused. "It's kind of like having Cordelia back."   
  
"Have a look," Giles said, handing the papers to Xander. "Do you recognize any of the other names?"   
  
Xander's eyes widened. "Oh, God."  
  
"What?" Giles asked.   
  
"This guy near the top of the list is an engineer," Xander said, "and the rest are in construction. I've worked with most of 'em."  
  
"That makes sense," Tara responded. "If Walpurgis wants to build a big underground city, she'll need lots of workers."   
  
"And with the supernatural strength and endurance they will have as vampires," Giles added, "they'll get the job done in short order."  
  
"We've gotta warn them," Xander said.   
  
They pulled into the driveway of Giles' apartment complex. Xander hopped out first and ran inside to start calling his endangered colleagues. Tara walked in with Giles.   
  
"Did Xander tell you about Faith's condition?" Giles asked her. Tara nodded.   
  
They walked in the front door. Sarah was sitting in Giles' easy chair in the living room, while a doped-up Faith was sprawled on the couch.   
  
"Sarah believes it will take Faith at least a week to heal," Giles continued. "By which time Walpurgis and her minions will have dug themselves in. Literally and figuratively."   
  
"I…I might know a healing spell that could speed things up," Tara volunteered skittishly.   
  
"I was rather hoping you'd say that," replied Giles with a slight smile.   
  
Xander, who had just finished his first phone call in the kitchen, looked over the counter at Tara. "Wait a sec. If you have some kind of get-well alacazam, why haven't you used it on Willow?"   
  
"Well-" Tara began awkwardly, trying to think of how to explain it. "The spell promotes life and growth," Tara answered. "If I used it on Willow, it might make her stronger, but it would do the same for her infection. The germs would get healthier and multiply faster."  
  
Giles nodded, comprehending. "Which is why you never tried it on Joyce," he said.   
  
"Right," Tara responded. "It would just have made her tumor bigger and harder to cure."  
  
Faith looked up from the couch, eyes bleary. "Hey, if you got the healin' touch, lay it on me," she said.   
  
"The thing is," Tara said cautiously, "it's going to hurt."   
  
"How much?"   
  
"About as much as it did when Walpurgis broke your legs-"  
  
"I can take that," Faith interjected.  
  
"-for about six straight hours," Tara finished.   
  
"Oh," Faith said. "Okay, I'll just take some more of this nice oxy-something-or-other." She shook her little plastic bottle of pain pills, making the tablets rattle.   
  
"No," Tara said. "Drugs will weaken the spell, or ruin it completely. You can't have anything foreign in your body while it's working."   
  
"Crap," Faith muttered.   
  
Sarah, looking pensive, said, "Faith, do you remember the time I hypnotized you?"   
  
"Yeah," Faith said. "It was kind of cool. I 'magined I was on the beach, with waves and sun and Kahlua. Was like I was really there."  
  
"Would you be willing to try it now?" Sarah said. "It might take you away from the pain for a little while. We could start the trance before your medication wears off."   
  
"S'worth a shot," Faith answered.   
  
"All right," Sarah said. She took the bottle of pills from Faith and looked at the dosage printed on the label. "We'll begin in half an hour."   
  
-----  
  
The half-hour had nearly elapsed when Xander finished his last phone call and emerged from the kitchen. "That's it," he said, "they've all been warned."   
  
"What did you tell them?" Anya asked.   
  
"Oh, about the vampires and the beheading and the upcoming human cattle drive."   
  
Everyone stared.   
  
"I'm kidding. I told them there were union-busting thugs going door to door, and not to invite anybody in."   
  
"Good thinking," Giles said. He turned to Sarah. "Is it time?"  
  
Sarah leaned over Faith and looked at her pupils. "I would say so, yes. But let's get her up to my room first – it's best to do this where there are few distractions."   
  
"Quite right," Giles said. He and Xander moved to either end of the couch, lifted Faith up between them, and awkwardly carried her up the stairs to the guest room, trying not to bump her head or legs on the banister. Tara came into the room behind them just as they laid Faith on the bed. Faith grimaced a bit as they set her down; her medication was starting to wear off.   
  
"All right, Faith," Sarah said. Her voice dropped into a low, soothing tone. "I'd like you to pick a spot on the wall, perhaps somewhere up near the ceiling, where you can fix your eyes. Just let your eyes rest on that spot. If the spot begins to move, or change color, that's all right, just keep your eyes on it as best you can.  
  
Faith complied.  
  
"Now," Sarah continued, "you may begin to notice your breathing..."  
  
Giles had studied hypnosis as a part of his Watcher training, so he understood that Sarah was inducing a state of relaxation by fatiguing Faith's eyes and having her focus on her respiration. As Giles expected, Sarah then asked Faith to slow her breathing in order to relax her further. Sarah also slowed her own breathing to match the pace of Faith's, reinforcing Faith's sense of ease. Sarah's every word was a suggestion or a request, never a command.   
  
Soon, Faith was gone, off to some perfect, faraway beach that existed only in her mind.   
Xander, Giles and Sarah went quietly out of the room, leaving Tara to her work. She began a murmuring chant as they shut the door behind them.   
  
A few minutes later, Tara joined the others in the living room. "It's started," she said. "As long as nothing goes wrong, she should be just about good as new by morning."   
  
"I just hope her trance holds up that long," Sarah said. Giles looked at her questioningly. "Faith is only moderately susceptible to hypnosis. It helps somewhat that she has been hypnotized before and that she trusts me, but I couldn't take her into as deep a trance as would be ideal for blocking out this sort of intense pain."  
  
"I don't see why you're all worried about THAT," Anya said. "Even if Faith is running and kicking again by the end of the day, Walpurgis will just mess her up some more. Maybe by chopping her arms off or scooping out her eyes or something permanent like that."   
  
"Well," Giles said, glowering at Anya, "once we clear our heads of that ghastly imagery, we'll set about thinking of a plan."   
  
"How about the Slayer Combo spell we used on Adam?" Xander suggested. "Not that I really want Bad-Hair-Slayer to rip out my heart and show it to me again, but as a guy who grew up without cable, I can watch a rerun if I have to."  
  
"It won't work," Tara said. "The joining spell requires a strong bond among all four participants. There aren't any four people in this house who know one another that well. But...maybe..." Tara trailed off, looking pensively down at the coffee table.   
  
"What?" prompted Sarah.   
  
"There might be another spell that will work. It's not as powerful as the joining spell, but not as dangerous, either. It could make Faith a little faster, maybe more agile."  
  
"I'm not sure I'm familiar with this spell," Giles asked. "Where did you come across it?"   
  
"I didn't – it's, it's original. Willow and I have been working on it on and off since last summer, trying to find a way to boost Buffy's powers without invoking the First Slayer. We weren't making a lot of progress before Buffy died, and I kind of thought we were going to give up on it after that, but then Willow started working on it harder than ever. I think she's actually made it...doable. But-"  
  
"Is this the part," Xander cut in, "when you tell us that the spell's never been tested, and that if it doesn't work it could blow us all to strawberry-jam-like bits?"   
  
"I don't know what it could do. Blow us up, turn us into flatworms, or make us really thirsty for coyote blood. Or Zima."   
  
"Eew," said Anya.   
  
"And I don't know if I can do it without Willow," Tara said. "Her control is much better than mine."  
  
"Nonetheless," Giles said, "we should certainly consider it. Faith is no match for Walpurgis without some sort of aid. Tara, what will you need for the spell?"   
  
"Xander," she said.   
  
"Excuse me?" said Anya. "Because if there's ritual sacrifice involved, I will not-"  
  
"No, I mean I need Xander to help me get some of the components," Tara explained.   
  
"No problem," Xander said.   
  
"But you'll wait until morning, right?" Anya suggested. "I mean, there are construction-worker-eating monsters out there."   
  
"I don't see why not," Giles said. "It will take Faith the rest of the night to heal. Besides, there is still the issue of figuring out where to find Walpurgis when the time is right."   
  
"I've been thinking about that," Sarah said. "What about her swords?"  
  
Giles smacked himself on the forehead. "Of course," he said.   
  
Xander spoke up. "Can I take a moment to say 'Huh?'"  
  
Giles turned to Xander. "While there are many manufacturers that make swords fit for hanging on one's living room wall, there are fewer which make swords of proper temper, weight, and balance for use in genuine combat. It seems unlikely that Walpurgis is using swords from her own time; they would never have survived her submergence. Therefore, it is probable that she obtained her weapons from one of a small number of modern sword-makers."  
  
"If someone were to check their shipping records," Sarah added, "he or she could find Walpurgis' address."   
  
"I could do that," Anya said. "I've watched Willow a few times, and she's got a whole bunch of security-cracking programs on her laptop. It looks easy as pie. Blueberry pie, I mean, not coconut cream pie, which is notoriously difficult."   
  
"She's been reading Martha Stewart," Xander explained.   
  
Before the conversation could steer further off track, Giles thrust Willow's laptop computer into Anya's hands. "Well," he said, "have at it. I'll give you the names of the sword makers."   
  
Giles and Anya retreated to the kitchen, where there was both a phone jack and coffee, and went to work. Tara excused herself to look in on Willow, leaving Xander and Sarah alone in the living room.   
  
"Perhaps we should try to get some rest," Sarah suggested.   
  
"Sounds good," Xander said. "Take the couch. I'm fine with flooring it."   
  
"That's kind of you," Sarah responded. She removed her shoes, set them neatly next to the couch, and laid back. Xander grabbed a stray pillow off the easy chair and, lying down on the living room rug, put the pillow under his head.   
  
Still gazing up at the ceiling, Sarah said, "You know, Xander, you're a bit of a surprise to me."   
  
"How's that?"   
  
"Of all of Buffy's friends, I expected you to be the most resistant to having Faith here. And yet, when I reprimanded her for attacking Walpurgis prematurely, you were the first to come to her defense."  
  
"I had to."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"She was trying to protect Willow."   
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
"Because I can't think of why else Faith would attack Walpurgis right then and there," Xander said. "And believe me, I tried. I considered every selfish, impulsive, or just plain psychotic reason I could come up with for Faith to jump Walpurgis up on the 4th floor, and there just wasn't one. Faith knew Walpurgis had killed Slayers before, but she tried to protect Willow anyway. Not that it makes up for all the bad stuff Faith's done, but...she's different. More in control, somehow, more – how do I put it? – sane. And if even Xander Harris, Sunnydale's reigning champion grudge-holder, can see that, then it's probably true."  
  
"It appears Faith is not the only one who's changed," Sarah said.   
  
Xander snorted.   
  
"What?" said Sarah.  
  
"I haven't changed. Not the way I want to."   
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
"Buffy," he said.   
  
Sarah said nothing, waiting patiently for Xander to elaborate.  
  
"It's like...like I keep having to tell myself that she's gone. Because every time I read something in the paper or see something on TV that I think she'd find interesting, I think, 'I have to remember to tell Buffy.' I think about going to a movie and I think, 'I wonder if Buffy would want to go.' And then I remember that she's dead. It's been a month, and I'm still doing it."   
  
Sarah nodded. "The neurology of grief," she said.   
  
"What?"  
  
"As we get to know someone, we make connections in our minds between the person and all of the things we associate with them: their likes and dislikes, the places we go with them, the things we do together. We form a web of memories of events, places, and things, with the person we know at the center. The better we know them, the bigger and stronger the web. Even when that person is taken away, the web is still there, except that a new thread is added – one that leads to the memory that the person is gone."  
  
Xander nodded. After a moment, he said, "So how do I untangle the damn thing?"  
  
"Time is the only answer," Sarah replied. "Time thins the threads, moves them, changes the shape of the web. Eventually, not every strand leads to pain."  
  
Xander looked up at the ceiling, taking this in.  
  
"Well," Sarah breathed, "we'd best get some rest. Sleep well, Xander."   
  
"Yeah. You too," Xander said.   
  
Though most of the lights in the living room area were still on, Sarah turned off the lamp near the couch, then closed her eyes.   
  
"Sarah?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You're welcome."   
  
Within a minute, they were both asleep.   
  
----  
  
She was half-asleep under the warm sun, hearing the deep sound of the waves and the occasional cry of a gull. The soft sand cushioned her through her towel, and she could almost hear the ice melting in her fuzzy navel, clinking gently against the cool, wet glass.  
  
But there was something wrong. Somewhere, very far away, there was...ache. It was as if her legs were fifty feet long, extending from the shore into the cold ocean, so cold that her legs were nearly numb. But somewhere down there, where she couldn't see, there was deep, dull pain. It was like kneeling on thick, dull pieces of broken china, except the china was INSIDE her knees, replacing her kneecaps and the ends of the two bones that met there.   
  
She tried to ignore it. She thought about the crashing waves, and the gulls, and maybe ordering another fuzzy navel. But all the while, those dull fragments in her legs were sharpening, forming edges and points that poked and sawed at her skin from the inside.   
The places that had been cold and numb before were now getting uncomfortably warm. Little points of pain seared like candle flames inside each knee, growing into larger and larger circles of fire that melded into one another until the whole joint burned like an uninsulated section of hot steam pipe.   
  
Unconsciously, she began to make sounds of pain. They were just soft whimpers at first, but they grew loud enough that she began to become aware of them. She tried to hold them down, keep them trapped behind her lips to avoid letting them out where others could hear. But they grew bigger, like balloons in her mouth, until they began to escape.   
  
-----  
  
Sarah had been asleep for nearly four hours when the voices woke her. Giles and Anya were whispering over the computer in the kitchen, but Anya was whispering so loudly that she might as well have not bothered.   
  
Sarah unglued her eyelids from one another and blinked against the light that shone into the living room from the kitchen. She was just remembering where she was and why when Giles' head leaned over the couch.   
  
"Sarah," Giles said quietly. "We've found something." Sarah sat up.   
  
"About two months ago, somebody in Sunnydale bought half a dozen swords and a couple of shields by mail order," Anya called from the kitchen. "We've got the delivery address: 24 Tanglewylde Avenue."   
  
Xander sat up from his prone position on the floor. "Wha-?" he said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "I know that address. That's Doc's house."   
  
Tara, who was poring over magic books at the dining room table, looked up with alarm.  
  
"Whose house?" asked Sarah.   
  
"A demon," Giles explained, "who looks like a man. He worshipped Glory, before Buffy killed her."   
  
"We never found him after Buffy threw him off the tower," Xander continued. "We searched his house the next day, but he'd moved out. We figured he just skipped town. If he hasn't…"  
  
"Then Walpurgis has a powerful ally, and the situation is even worse than we realized," Giles finished.  
  
"Just in case you were wondering if it COULD get worse," Xander commented to Sarah.   
  
Everyone stopped speaking for a moment. In the near-silence, it was just possible to hear a low, pitiful moaning from somewhere upstairs.  
  
"It seems Faith is awake," Giles said.   
  
"Damn," Sarah said. "She's broken her trance. I was afraid she might."   
  
"What do we do?" Tara asked.   
  
"Mister Giles, if you could assist me," Sarah said. Giles nodded.   
  
They walked upstairs and entered the guest room. Faith was sprawled on the bed, twisting in extreme discomfort, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her moans were getting louder. Sarah knew that, unless she did something soon, the moans would become screams.   
  
Sarah turned to Giles. "Help her sit up," she said.   
  
Sarah approached Faith's bed and took the Slayer's hand as Giles lifted her up by her shoulders to a sitting position. "Faith," Sarah said.   
  
Faith opened her eyes. "Sarah," she said through clenched teeth. "God, it hu- hurts. It won't stop." A tear leaked from her eye.   
  
"I know," Sarah said.   
  
"I keep- I keep trying to fight it, but-" she winced "I...I..." She could form no more words, but simply shook her head, trembling with agony. Sarah felt an incredible swell of pity. Faith was never one to show or admit to discomfort; for her to do so now meant that the pain was truly unbearable.   
  
Sarah squeezed Faith's hand. "Close your eyes," she said.   
  
Giles gave Sarah a questioning look. Surely, under these circumstances, it would be impossible to re-hypnotize Faith. Her pain would never permit her to relax long enough to induce a trance.   
  
Faith closed her eyes. Giles marveled at Faith's immediate and implicit trust in Sarah. In the year or so he had known her, Giles had never seen Faith rely on anyone for anything.   
  
Sarah pulled back and punched Faith in the jaw as hard as she could. Faith's head snapped sideways, and Giles, startled, let her fall back onto the bed.   
  
But Giles' surprise quickly melted into understanding. Faith would suffer no lasting damage from the blow, but the hour or two of unconsciousness could spare her a great deal of agony.   
  
He hoped.   
  
-----  
  
It would have been very peaceful if it wasn't for all the racket.   
  
Faith didn't know where the noise was coming from, but it sure was annoying. Here she was, floating around in space, minding her own business, just trying to maintain a nice, quiet coma. She used to be so good at that. But with all the hooha going on around here, even Sleeping Beauty would have been hard-pressed to get a decent nap going.   
  
Slowly, and much against her will, Faith was dragged to a state of awareness. She realized that it was a huge crowd she heard, shouting something over and over. Curiosity closed its grip around her, and she tried to make out what they all were shouting, but the sound remained a formless, pulsating roar.   
  
She opened her eyes and sat up. It seemed she was on a huge, grassy field. It was nighttime, and the grass was wet with dew that soaked uncomfortably through her sweat pants. The sensation drove away her weariness and made her stand up before she could get even damper than she already was.   
  
Not far away was a dirt road lined with stones. The vast crowd covered the road's surface almost completely, parading along with torches and lanterns. Most of them carried weapons as well. There were Vikings with axes and chainmail, Medieval knights on horseback, Zulu warriors with spears and huge body shields, samurai in helmets and frightening steel masks, Redcoats with muskets and bayonets, rifle-bearing Marines. In short, fighting men and women from every nation and time period Faith could think of.   
  
In the middle of the crowd, four muscular, shirtless, handsome young men carried a sedan chair. In the chair, waving like a queen, sat a small, young blonde woman. The moment Faith recognized her, she realized what the crowd was shouting.  
  
"BUF-FY! BUF-FY! BUF-FY! BUF-FY!"  
  
Faith stood watching as the crowd carried Buffy along like a golden leaf on the surface of a slow-moving river. Though the crowd and the noise were immense, and though Faith made no attempt to draw attention to herself, Buffy looked over and met Faith's eyes with her own.   
  
Buffy raised her hand. The parade stopped, and the shouts died away to whispers.   
  
The blonde Slayer made a lowering gesture to the men who carried her, and they gently placed her sedan chair on the ground. Buffy stood and approached Faith. There was a slight smile on her face, almost a smirk.   
  
"Where are we?" Faith asked.   
  
"Valhalla," Buffy replied, gesturing at their surroundings. "Home of fallen heroes. We're on our way to the great hall for a feast in my honor." Faith nodded, having read about Valhalla in some comic book or other as a child.   
  
"Nice," Faith said. "  
  
"Yes," Buffy agreed. "I'm glad you got to see it this once."   
  
"What do you mean, 'this once'?" Faith said, her brow furrowing.  
  
"Well, you don't think YOU'LL end up here, do you?" Buffy said, laughing as if Faith had said something terribly foolish. "I mean, I killed a hell god and gave my life to save the world. What have you done lately?"   
  
"I've done some stuff," Faith said defensively.   
  
"Let's check your score," Buffy mused, looking upward as if at some invisible scoreboard. "In the last year, you've killed two vampires – though I'd hardly count that easy one at the cemetery – a few demons, and some miscellaneous ghosts and goblins that Wesley, and I mean the old Wesley, could have handled by himself. Not too impressive."   
  
"Hey, you should see this vamp I just fought," Faith said. "She's badder than any vampire YOU'VE ever seen."   
  
"Oh, you mean the one that kicked your ass without even breaking a sweat? That was really impressive, the way you lay on the ground and hit her in the feet with your knees."   
  
Faith was about to issue a nasty reply, but stopped herself short. There was something weird about this situation, and it wasn't just the torch-wielding cast of thousands. Then it hit her.  
  
"You're not Buffy," Faith said.   
  
Buffy raised an eyebrow.   
  
"She's not this big of an asshole," Faith elaborated.   
  
"Sure, I'm Buffy," the blonde said. "I'm YOUR Buffy. I'm the way you always saw her: all high and mighty, gets all the breaks, doesn't have to do anything and everyone loves her."   
  
"I don't see her that way anymore," Faith said. "She's got problems, just like everybody. Now go away and let me talk to her."   
  
Suddenly, Buffy's whole demeanor changed. The smirk vanished, and her expression became deadly serious.   
  
"Faith, listen to me," she said.   
  
"That's why I'm here, right?" Faith said. "So you can tell me how to beat Walpurgis?"   
  
"You can't," Buffy said.   
  
"What?" Faith said. "Come on, there's got to be something. A weakness – something she's afraid of, something she can't do, some mistake I can get her to make."   
  
"There isn't," Buffy said. "God, just when I thought you'd changed."   
  
"Huh?"   
  
"You have to stop thinking this way."  
  
Buffy stepped back towards a patch of dirt that lay between the grass and the road. With the toe of her sandal, she drew a line in the dirt. Then stepped back a few more feet, drew a longer line, and stood behind it.   
  
"How do you make my line shorter than yours?" Buffy said.   
  
"That's easy," Faith said. She walked up to Buffy's line and drew back her foot to wipe away part of it.   
  
Buffy kicked Faith in the face. Faith flew back and landed butt-first on the ground behind her own line.   
  
"Ow!" Faith yelled. "It's bad enough that my legs are broke, now you've got to knock me around in my dreams?"  
  
"Forget it," Buffy said. She waved her hand again, and the sound of the cheering crowd returned to full volume. Then she turned away and walked back towards her sedan chair.   
  
What the hell? Faith thought.   
  
She looked down at her own line in the dirt, then looked up again.  
  
"BUFFY!" Faith yelled at the top of her lungs. Apparently, it was loud enough to get Buffy's attention even through the roar of the crowd. Buffy turned around and looked towards Faith.   
  
With the toe of her sneaker, Faith added to her own line until it was longer than Buffy's.   
  
Buffy jogged back towards Faith. She was smiling.   
  
"You can beat her," Buffy said.   
  
"What? You just said I COULDN'T beat her," Faith said.   
  
"Second-person-singular-you can't beat her," Buffy explained. "Second-person-plural-you might have a chance. But the key is trust."   
  
Faith frowned. "I don't think any of your Scooby pals trusts me much."  
  
"I meant you," Buffy said.   
  
"You're saying _I_ need to trust THEM?"   
  
"Completely. With your life. Because that's the only way you're going to keep it. And you have to trust yourself, too."   
  
Faith looked up at the sky, frustrated. "Okay, you're losing me," she said. She looked down-  
  
Buffy was gone.   
  
The crowd, too, had vanished, leaving Faith standing alone by the side of the ancient road. The only sound was that of the grass, ruffled by a mild night breeze.   
  
"I hate this Slayer dream crap," Faith muttered. She sat down in the dirt, and waited to wake up.   
  
-----  
  
Giles had nearly nodded off in his easy chair when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He looked up and saw Tara.   
  
"How is Willow?," he whispered, not wanting to wake Sarah and Anya, who were still dozing. Xander was in the kitchen, making a sandwich.   
  
"Not good," Tara said. "She has a fever again, and her color is terrible. She needs to go back to the hospital."   
  
"She can't," Giles said. "Walpurgis will find her there. A private residence is the only place where Willow is safe from her."   
  
Xander came back into the living room. "Maybe not," he said through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. Tara and Giles looked at him curiously.   
  
"Look, I've been to Sunnydale General more times than I've been to church," Xander went on. "I've gotten to know the place pretty well. I think maybe we can keep Willow safe there, and take out Walpurgis while we're at it."   
  
"How?" Tara said.   
  
"Yes," Giles agreed. "What exactly are you saying?"   
  
"I'm saying – and let me preface this with 'God help us all' – I have a plan."   
  
END CHAPTER 5 


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6  
  
Like most vampires, Jake was not a morning person. Especially not this morning.   
  
"Goddamnit!" he screamed. "Those freakin' bastards!" He was half-walking, half-stumbling around the studio floor, a bottle of Bacardi hanging loosely from one hand. "Goddamn humans, man, staking him like it's their God-given right or something!" The one or two mouthfuls of rum left in the bottle sloshed violently with each of Jake's angry gestures. He began to sob and raised the bottle high. "Bobby, man, hope the waves in Hell are tasty," Jake said, drinking deeply. Some of the booze spilled onto his shirt, soaking into the cloth and mingling with his tears.   
  
Walpurgis walked up to him. There was a *pish*, like a silenced bullet through a window, and Jake realized that he was now only holding the neck of the bottle. The rest was in shards on the floor, cut off by Walpurgis' sword.   
  
"Enough," the vampire swordswoman said. "This does not help."   
  
"Aw, dammit," Jake said drunkenly, slumping to the floor. "Me an' Bobby been riding the surf together for fifteen years, man. What am I supposed to do now?"   
  
"Take revenge," Walpurgis said. "It will help. I know."   
  
Jake looked up at her. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot. But something began to grow behind them.   
  
"Yes," Walpurgis said. "Let your hatred grow. Hate replaces the sadness and gives you strength."   
  
Jake nodded. The burn of fury in his chest blacked out all other sensation, even the shards of glass that dug into his hand as he crushed the bottle stem.   
  
-----  
  
Tara was on a ladder, peering through jars of herbs on the higher shelves of the Magic Box. The store was deserted save for herself – Anya was off doing some sort of research on her computer, leaving Tara, who needed to be there anyway, to mind the store.   
  
The bell over the front door jingled. "May I help y-" Tara started, before she realized who it was. "Oh. Faith."   
  
"Hey," Faith replied. "Giles said I could use the training room out back."   
  
"Sure," Tara said.   
  
"What'cha doing?" Faith asked.   
  
"Getting some things together for the enhancement spell," Tara said. She glanced down at her list. "I still need belladonna, Dragon's Eye root, and…monkey buns?" She looked closer at the paper. "Oh. Donkey bile." She held the paper up. "Willow's handwriting's a little like code."   
  
"I know what you mean," Faith said. "I think my friend Sonya learned to write by watching her arthritic great-grandma."   
  
"Who's Sonya?" Tara asked.   
  
"Somebody I knew in prison. My best friend." Tara could just barely perceive a note of sadness in Faith's voice.   
  
"You must miss her," Tara said.   
  
"Yeah," Faith said quietly.   
  
They were silent for the next several seconds. The only sound was the clinking of bottles and vials as Tara continued to root for supplies among the Magic Box's crowded shelves.   
  
"I'm sorry," Faith blurted suddenly.   
  
"Hmm?" Tara said. She had been concentrating very hard on finding what she needed and wasn't sure she had heard correctly.   
  
"I'm sorry about what I said the first time I met you," Faith said. "When I was Buffy, I mean. There was no reason for me to make fun of you like that."  
  
"Oh. It's-" Tara started, then stopped. Tara had been about to say it was okay, but it wasn't, really. People had mocked her speech impediment all through her younger years, which had just made her more nervous every time she spoke. The more nervous she got, the more she stuttered, creating a vicious cycle that had led her to barely speak at all for a long time. Going off to college, where the students were generally more open-minded and less casually cruel, had helped Tara begin to overcome her some of her anxiety, as had her friendship with Willow. But the night Faith insulted her, it was as if Faith had transported Tara right back to her junior high days, when kids she barely even knew yelled "T-T-Tara!" as they flew by on their bikes or skates.   
  
And yet, Faith's apology had a surprising force to it. Faith had once been the epitome of bullies – cruel for the sake of cruelty and completely careless of anyone else's life or property, let alone their feelings – and now she was saying she was sorry. It was as if the people who had hurt Tara in the past had elected a representative to apologize for all of them. That thought made Tara feel a little bit better.  
  
Having found what she needed on the shelves, Tara climbed down the ladder and looked at Faith for the first time since she had walked in.   
  
"Thanks," Tara said. Faith was visibly relieved, and Tara chuckled softly.   
  
"What?" Faith said.   
  
"It's just, of all the people you could be apologizing to right now, why did you pick me?"   
  
"I betrayed Giles, I choked Xander half to death, and I threatened to slash Willow's throat. Out of everyone I know in this town, I think you're the only one I CAN apologize to."   
  
Tara hesitated more a moment, then said, "I did something once that I thought they couldn't forgive me for. I was ready to go home to my family, even though my family is pretty awful. But Buffy and everybody forgave me anyway. I mean, what I did wasn't attempted murder or anything, but…I guess what I'm saying is that I think the things you've done since you got here mean something to us. They certainly mean something to me," Tara said, thinking of Faith's attempt to protect Willow from Walpurgis.   
  
"Thanks," Faith said. She paused, then said, "I can see why Willow likes you. She was so hyper and worried all the time. Having you around must mellow her out."   
  
"Well, it would certainly mellow ME out if she were here right now," Tara said.   
  
"She's gonna be okay, right?" Faith said, her brow furrowing. "Giles said she just needs to be the Girl in the Plastic Bubble for a little while. Which is not an exact quote, but you get my drift."   
  
"I didn't mean that," Tara explained. "It's just…the enhancement spell. Willow did most of the research on it, and she's got a lot more power than me. I just wish she could be the one to cast it."  
  
Faith nodded. "And I keep thinking about this certain blonde chick who could have handled this whole situation way better than I can." She paused. "But you know what, T? We're it. We're the ones that God or Fate or whoever put in front of Walpurgis. Maybe we're not the best ones for the job, but hey, we're the only ones." She took half a step closer to Tara. "Look I know I don't know you real well, but I know that you can do this. I trust you to do this."   
  
"How can you know that?" Tara asked.   
  
"It came to me in a dream."   
  
Just then, the bell above the door jingled again, and Xander walked in. "Oh, hey," he said, seeing Faith and Tara by the door. He held out a small burlap bag to Tara. "I got the stuff you asked for."   
  
"Thank you," Tara said, taking the bag. "How did it go at the hospital?"  
  
"Not bad. We got Willow into a room with southern exposure, so she'll be safe for the daylight hours, but it was a little hard convincing the chaplain that a crystal-wearing gal named Rosenberg is a Catholic. Luckily, I turned on the ol' Harris charm. Which is to say that I begged. Anyway, it's done."   
  
"What's done?" Faith asked.   
  
Before Xander could answer, his pager went off. He took it off his belt and glanced at it; it was his own phone number, followed by "911".   
  
"It's Anya," he said. "She probably wants me to open the register and check on the money."  
  
Xander went behind the Magic Box's counter and grabbed the phone. Faith and Tara could only hear Xander's end of the conversation.   
  
"Anya, what's-…Yes, I want to hear your idea…Yes, I'll check the register right now…YES, it's all there, now will you tell me the idea already?...Huh…Oh. OH. That's good. That's REALLY good." Xander glanced at his watch. "Sure, there's enough time, if I get started right now. See you later, OK? Yes, you are also my little cinnamon roll of love. Now I gotta go." Xander hung up.   
  
"'Cinnamon roll of love?'" Faith said, raising one eyebrow.   
  
"Well, look at the time," Xander said, looking at his watch again as he headed for the door. "See you at Giles'."  
  
-----  
  
The group spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon engaged in a variety of tasks. To get Faith's legs back in shape, Sarah came to the gym and guided Faith through a regimen of intense exercise alternating with brief rest and hydration breaks. To Tara, who was in the front room of the Magic Box poring over spell books and mixing ingredients, it sounded like a workout only a Slayer could survive. Anya was at the hospital looking in on Willow and making some sort of arrangements, and Giles was ensuring that there were enough crossbows, bolts, stakes, swords, and axes to go around. Xander was in his garage doing something, though no one knew exactly what.   
  
At five o'clock that afternoon, the entire group assembled at Giles' apartment. The meeting was by Tara's request, and the purpose of it was to cast the first phase of the enhancement spell. Once everyone had arrived, Tara asked them to seat themselves in a circle on Giles' living room floor. She had taken away the coffee table and rug and put in their place a small copper cauldron, sitting on top of a Sterno flame and filling the room with the smell of herbs. The curtains were closed, so that the room was lit only by the Sterno flame, giving everyone's face a bluish cast.   
  
"I suddenly want fondue," Anya said, looking at the setup.   
  
Once everyone was seated Tara took a deep breath and began to explain how the spell would work. "Like I said before, the joining spell we used last year with Buffy won't work because it requires a strong bond among everyone casting it. The enhancement spell doesn't need as much of a bond, but it does require all of us to share a part of ourselves with the others."   
  
"Whoa," Xander said, "are we talking about removal of body parts, here? 'Cause I just remembered that I need to go walk my dog. I mean, I need to go buy a dog. And then walk it. Could take a while."  
  
"No body-part removal required," Tara said.  
  
Tara reached behind her and picked up the small burlap bag Xander had brought her. She carefully lifted out the contents – six slate roof shingles and six long nails – and passed them around so that everyone had one piece of slate and one nail.   
  
"On your slate," Tara said, "you need to write a secret. It should be something meaningful to you that you have never told anyone before. Scratch it on with the nail. Then put your slate back in the bag." Tara placed the bag in the middle of the circle, next to the cauldron.   
  
The noise that emanated from the group over the next few minutes was ghastly. Six steel nails scratching against slate made for a teeth-clenching racket. The noise died out gradually as each person finished and placed his or her slate back in the burlap bag. Giles was the last to do so, after which Tara took the bag up.   
  
"Now I'm going to pass the bag around," she said. "Each of you should take one slate from it. If you get your own slate, put it back and choose another."   
  
"And if you can spell a word using all six slates, you get fifty bonus points," Xander added, getting no laughs and several funny looks.   
  
"Faith, you go first," Tara said, passing her the bag. "Just take out a slate and read it to yourself. When you're done, put it face-down on the floor."   
  
The Slayer reached in without looking, took out a slate, and looked at it. It read:   
  
"The first time I went patrolling with Willow, I was so scared, I thought I was going to throw up. But I didn't want Willow to think that I couldn't handle it or that I didn't fit in with her other friends, so I never said anything."  
  
Faith put the slate on the floor, writing-side down, and passed the bag to Sarah. Sarah took out another piece and read it:  
  
"Hank Summers has something terribly special, and he treats it like it scarcely matters. For that, I hate him as much as I have ever hated anyone. And yet, justified as it is, that hatred makes me feel less human somehow, less good. And I hate that even more."   
  
Sarah passed the bag to Giles. His slate read:  
  
"I used to think Giles must be the smartest person in the world. I was a powerful demon, and he was just an ordinary mortal, but he still took my power away. So I thought nothing bad could ever happen to us as long as he was in charge. But he's just as lame as all of us, and I shouldn't blame him for Buffy being dead."  
  
Giles tried to avoid looking at Anya as he passed the bag to her. Anya took out a slate that simply read:  
  
"I never used to be scared of getting killed. Now I am."  
  
Anya put down her slate and gave the bag to Xander. His slate read:   
  
"If Faith hadn't improved as much as she has in the past year, I was under orders to kill her. And I believe I would have followed them."   
  
Xander gulped and passed the bag, now with only one slate left inside, to Tara. The last slate read:  
  
"One of these days, Anya's going to start talking about having kids. That scares me because I don't have any idea how to be a father. Other than the kind that drinks and yells a lot, that is."   
  
Tara placed her slate on the floor. She looked back up at the group, then at the small cauldron in the middle of the circle, and finally up towards the ceiling.  
  
"We breathe of the same essence," she said, "and we each know the heart of another. We ask you, spirits, to put the Slayer in the center of our circle. Where she has weakness, place our strength instead. Where she has doubt, place our conviction. Where she may hesitate, give her our will to act. We ask this in humility and with all our hearts."   
  
Just as Tara finished her invocation, the cauldron, which had been merely steaming before, bubbled up to a rapid boil, filling the room with herb-scented steam. Everyone gasped sharply, feeling as if something had been drawn suddenly out of them with their breath.   
  
The cauldron soon stopped bubbling and everyone felt normal again. Tara got up and opened the curtains.   
  
"So that's it?" Faith asked. "I don't feel any different."  
  
Tara picked up the bag of slates from the floor and handed them to Faith. "When the time comes, and you're about to face Walpurgis, you'll need to smash these. That's when you'll feel the effects. But don't do it too soon – I don't think the spell will last for more than a few minutes, and you'll be very weak after that."   
  
"One-shot deal, huh?" Faith said. "Gee, and I was afraid there was going to be pressure."   
  
Xander looked at his watch. "OK, we've got three hours to sundown. Everybody go over your parts of the plan one more time, get your weapons together, and, um, have a snack, or a nap, or something." He started for the door. "Faith, you're with me."   
  
"He's been waiting all day to say, 'You're with me,'" Anya commented.  
  
Xander waved for Faith to hurry up as he walked rapidly out the door.   
  
Xander drove Faith to his apartment complex and parked his car just outside the garage door, which he opened to let himself and Faith inside, then closed it behind them. There was a red pickup truck parked in the garage with a 55-gallon drum in the flatbed.   
  
"Nice truck," Faith said.   
  
"My friend Tito lent it to me," Xander replied. "I told him I had to move some stuff, which wasn't exactly a lie."  
  
"So what are we doing here?" Faith asked.   
  
"We're here for this," Xander said. He walked to a corner of the garage, picked up what Faith first thought was a six-foot closet rod, and brought it over to her. "I made it this afternoon."   
  
Xander handed the pole to Faith, who saw now that it was a spear of solid oak. Instead of a metal head, however, the spear simply came to a sharp, slightly blackened wooden point at one end.   
  
"Giles told me how people used to fire-harden spear tips back before they had metal," Xander said. "I turned three of these into giant matchsticks before I got it right."   
  
Faith hefted the spear and moved it around a bit. Xander had lightly scored the middle four feet of the spear with a knife, providing Faith with an excellent grip on the weapon. Other than these grooves, however, the shaft was flawless, with no knots or splits that were visible to the eye. Primitive though the weapon was, it had obviously been made with great care.   
  
"Thanks," Faith said. "It's perfect."   
  
"No prob. Practice with it some if you want – I gotta go get my crossbow."  
  
Xander headed inside. Faith practiced a few thrusts and parries with the spear, and tried not to think too much about whether or not this meant that Xander had begun to forgive her.  
  
-----  
  
At seven-thirty, they all met once again at the Magic Box, where Tara grabbed a few last-minute supplies and Xander went over the plan one last time. At the end, he concluded, "Just remember, if Walpurgis comes at you, don't even think; just run. All the other vamps are fair game."   
  
"But won't Walpurgis know this is a trap?" Anya said. "I mean, she knows we wouldn't put Willow back in the hospital without protecting her somehow."   
  
"Right," Xander said, "but we know that she knows, so it's okay."  
  
"Yes, but won't she know that we know that-"  
  
There was a loud bang. Everyone jerked their heads around to see that Giles had dropped a heavy book on the counter.   
  
"I thought it best to nip that discussion in the bud," Giles explained.   
  
"Well," Xander said, "once we've all recovered from our heart attacks, let's mount up."   
  
"He's been waiting to say 'mount up' for-" Anya began.  
  
"Anya," Xander interrupted, "have you checked the register yet this afternoon?"  
  
"Oh! I nearly forgot! So sweet of you to remind me, pookie." She gave Xander a little kiss and skipped over to the register. Faith and Tara grinned slightly at Xander, who wished he hadn't said anything.   
  
The others gathered up their weapons and other supplies and headed out.   
  
-----  
  
Walpurgis sliced the air neatly with her single-hand sword, sweeping it up diagonally, then looping around and down as if she were disarming her opponent and cutting him in half in one continuous motion. Going with the momentum of her last cut, Walpurgis turned gracefully and beheaded a second invisible adversary, then a third, on and on, with an elegant parsimony of motion that made Jake's mouth hang open. When she finished, she turned and faced him.   
  
"Whoa," he said.   
  
"If that was a compliment, then thank you," Walpurgis replied.  
  
"I don't get it," Jake said "Why do you even need to practice?"   
  
"No one is untouchable," Walpurgis answered. "The streets of this town are choked with the dust of those who thought otherwise."  
  
Jake glanced up at the only window in the room – a small, high one near the ceiling. "Sun's down," he said. "We gonna go soon?"  
  
"No."  
  
"What?"  
  
"We will wait. Humans are not at their best late at night; we will go in the early hours of the morning."   
  
"You think they're waiting for us?"   
  
"Of course they are. That is what I would do."   
  
"Whatever you say," Jake replied. "As long as I get the one who did Bobby."   
  
"You will have your chance," Walpurgis replied. "Now, go and tell the others that they are to be ready at two o'clock."   
  
"Yes ma'am," Jake replied, with a growl of anticipation.  
  
-----  
  
Xander was on his third coffee run of the night. Bleary-eyed, he marched towards the hospital cafeteria, where he would order several more styrofoam cups of the most potent motor oil that cafeteria science could concoct.   
  
Just then, the walkie-talkie in Xander's jacket squawked. Willow's use of magical telepathy in their battle with Glory had convinced Xander that communications among the group were of critical importance. Plus he got to use cool code names and stuff.   
  
"Rat's Nest, this is..." the voice from the radio began. "Um, what am I called again?"  
  
"Eagle's Nest, Anya, you're Eagle's Nest," Xander sighed.   
  
"Oh, yeah. Anyway, I'm cold and sleepy. Bring me coffee immediately."   
  
"Coffee on the way. Anything to report?"  
  
"No boogers sighted."   
  
"Bogeys."  
  
"Right. No bogeys. Is this how modern males assert their dominance, by making up words that women aren't supposed to know?"  
  
"Anya, you're breaking up," Xander said, clicking the TALK button up and down several times. "I'll talk to you when I get to the roof."   
  
Maybe this is Walpurgis' master plan, Xander thought as he put the radio back into his jacket pocket. She can just wait to attack until after we drive each other crazy.   
  
-----  
  
Walpurgis led a group of more than a dozen vampires down a dark, dripping sewer tunnel. She had studied carefully several maps of the town's extensive tunnel system, and she was impressed with both the size and navigability of it. Clearly, Sunnydale's founders had intended for there to be a certain amount of traffic down here. It pleased Walpurgis that so much of the job of creating an underground metropolis had already been done.   
  
Just up ahead, her dark-adapted eyes could pick out several small shafts of light filtering down from above. Moving as quietly as possible, she moved up to see that the light was coming through a large sewer grate. This was it.   
  
Two of her followers boosted Walpurgis up. She lifted the grate slightly and peered through the crack between the pavement and the metal. There was nothing to see but black tires against gray concrete. She could hear the echo of distant footsteps, voices, and car engines, but no particular sounds stood out.   
  
Walpurgis gave an all-clear gesture to the vampires below her, who passed it on to the others. Then she pushed the grate aside and climbed to the surface. Once she was up, one of the others passed her shield to her. Her sword hung from her hip; the time for stealth ended now.   
  
It was then that Walpurgis noticed two significant things. One was an odd smell that she did not recognize. The other was the sound of someone stepping through the doorway of a nearby stairwell.   
  
"Guys, I brought some more- Oh crap!" cried the young man who emerged from the stairwell. He had been carrying four styrofoam cups of coffee; he dropped these at his feet, then leaped back to avoid being splashed by the hot liquid.   
  
"You," Walpurgis said, "are the boy who shot at me."   
  
"Oh," Xander said, sounding terribly nervous. "Yeah, I guess that was me."  
  
"How did you know I would come this way?" she asked.   
  
"You were a forest bandit, right? Like Robin Hood, but without the pesky giving to the poor? Somebody like that doesn't drive up to the battlefield in a great big surfmobile, WALPURGIS," he finished loudly.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Walpurgis saw movement in the bed of a red pickup truck parked behind her. The bed was covered in a tarp, which was yanked away by the man and two women hiding underneath it. At the rear of the bed was a metal barrel, standing upright. As one of the women released a latch to let the tailgate down, the other woman and the man shoved the barrel off the back of the truck. There was no lid on the barrel; the clear liquid inside poured rapidly onto the concrete and followed the slight slant of the pavement into the sewer.   
  
"What is that?" Walpurgis asked, backing off. She could hear a commotion below; it seemed that her minions recognized the fluid, even if Walpurgis herself did not.   
  
"My own refreshing blend of gasoline and kerosene," the young man said in the doorway said, casually reaching one hand behind him. "Oh, and may I offer the lady a light?"   
  
The boy pulled out a gun of some kind and fired it at the ground. A red flash streaked from the end of the gun and struck the liquid, causing it to burst into flame. Walpurgis heard running and yelling in the sewer below.  
  
"Flare gun," Xander said. "Don't leave port without it."   
  
"You will die now," Walpurgis said simply. She drew her sword and charged at Xander. Xander, never one to ignore his own advice, turned and ran like hell up the stairs with Walpurgis in hot pursuit.   
  
-----  
  
Walpurgis chased Xander up five flights of stairs before she realized that she was losing her focus. She was not here to kill the boy, but to take the young witch. For all Walpurgis knew, the boy was purposely diverting her, or leading her into a trap. Therefore, upon reaching the fourth floor of the hospital, Walpurgis stopped running, sheathed her weapon, and walked through the stairwell doors into the very same corridor where she had broken the Slayer's legs just one night ago.   
  
Which was why Walpurgis found it so odd to see the Slayer standing right there in the hallway.   
  
The dark-haired girl was leaning against the wall next to an open janitor's closet. In her left hand, she held a burlap bag with something heavy inside. Upon seeing Walpurgis, the Slayer reached her right hand into the closet and pulled out a six-foot spear.   
  
"Even a Slayer does not heal so fast," Walpurgis said. "You used magic, yes?"  
  
"You ain't seen nothing yet," Faith replied. With that, she whipped the burlap bag to the side and smashed whatever was inside against the wall.   
  
-----  
  
Jake led six other vampires – those who had not been either incinerated or frightened away by Xander's petrochemical cocktail – up through a manhole just outside the hospital building. It was more exposed than the sewer grate, but the manhole clearly offered the safer path.   
  
Anxious for revenge, or just some good old-fashioned carnage, the vampires half-ran into the parking garage and down the ramp to the bottom level, where their enemies awaited. Jake knew the humans were armed and had all manner of tricks up their sleeves, but the vampires had both strength and numbers on their side. They would drink their enemies' blood tonight, whatever the cost.   
  
The vampires turned the corner, ready to face the axes and arrows of their opponents. Instead, however, they saw the four humans leaning against cars or on all fours on the ground, retching violently.   
  
"Dude," Jake said to no one in particular as a smile grew on his face, "they're pukin'."  
  
-----  
  
The rush Faith felt when the slates shattered was like the vertiginous thrill of a 200-foot bungee-jump. Every single nerve tingled wildly. Her vision was suddenly so clear she could see every edge, line, and shadow in the hallway in perfect detail, her hearing so acute that she could count the number of separate conversations, beeping monitors, and hissing oxygen tanks in the entire ward.  
  
Faith looked at Walpurgis, aware of every detail – the scratches on the surface of her shield, the way her jacket didn't quite fit her shoulders, and the eyes that were such a dark brown that the light seemed to fall into them and never emerge again. Walpurgis raised her sword and shield and advanced cautiously, apparently aware that something about Faith had changed since their last encounter.   
  
All right, Faith thought, we've got the longer weapon, and we're in a nice, narrow hallway. Let's keep her at a distance.   
  
She lowered the point of her spear to the level of Walpurgis' chest. As soon as the vampire stepped into range, Faith faked a thrust at Walpurgis' neck, just above the rim of the shield, then yanked the point down and went for her leg instead. Walpurgis whipped her sword violently downward, knocking the spear point aside. The vampire charged forward, forcing Faith to run backwards to get her spear point up again before Walpurgis could close the distance.   
  
Think, think, Faith said to herself. The problem was that Walpurgis' shield covered most of her torso. That only left the legs and head as targets, both of which Walpurgis could protect with her sword.   
  
Before Faith could decide what to do next, Walpurgis slapped the point of Faith's spear to the side with her sword and held it away with her shield as she ran in for the kill. Faith backpedaled as fast as she could, but it was no use; the vampire was advancing too rapidly. In desperation, Faith choked up on the spear and swung the butt end around to set aside Walpurgis' incoming sword thrust. Walpurgis quickly brought her sword up and around for a downward cut. Faith lifted her spear over her head and took one more step back to protect herself.   
  
The sword blade sheared straight through the center of Faith's spear and missed Faith's skin by less than an inch. The Slayer was intact, but now her back was against the wall at the end of the corridor, and her spear had become a pair of sticks.   
  
Walpurgis swung her shield around and smashed Faith across the face with the edge. Instinctively, Faith sprang sideways, letting the blow's momentum assist her and avoiding the sword cut that followed.   
  
Then Faith turned and ran away.   
  
-----  
  
Walpurgis watched the Slayer flee. Clearly, the young woman had used some kind of enchantment to increase her power, but it still wasn't enough to overcome Walpurgis' speed and skill. Nonetheless, Walpurgis reminded herself that her purpose here was to turn the witch, not to kill another Slayer.   
  
She walked back down the hall, towards Willow's unguarded room.   
  
-----  
  
The vampires gathered around the four vomiting humans. Jake had thought at first that it might be some kind of trick, but he couldn't imagine anybody performing such a bodacious technicolor yawn just to lure in an enemy.   
  
Jake quickly selected a target – the woman who had killed Bobby. He walked up to her and waited, not wanting to get puke on his Birkenstocks. When it seemed she had finally finished vomiting, Jake grasped her by the shoulders and yanked her up until her toes hung a few inches above the ground. Her eyes opened and her alertness seemed to return as she realized the danger she was in.  
  
"I hope it wasn't something you ate," he said, his anger rising at the memory of Bobby bursting into dust by this woman's hand, "'cause it's snack time. Say goodnight." He pulled her closer and bared his fangs for the kill.  
  
"Goodnight," the Watcher said, right before she head-butted Jake in the face. Taken by surprise, Jake dropped her and staggered back. Sarah kneed him in the groin, then grabbed him by the hair, jerked his head down, and smashed her elbow against the back of his neck. Jake fell to the ground.   
  
The other six vampires closed in. Sarah threw a kick at one, but it was blocked and then they were on her. The Watcher was soon held fast by five pairs of unnaturally strong hands. A sixth pair came up to her temples, grasping her head for a fatal neck break.   
  
At least, she thought, I won't outlive my Slayer.  
  
-----  
  
Walpurgis entered Willow's room and looked down at the young witch. She appeared to be sleeping. Her face was pale and slightly puffy with illness, and an IV slowly dripped liquid into her veins. Walpurgis had seen IVs on television – there were so many programs set in hospitals – and understood that they kept patients from dying of thirst when they were too weak to drink. That was good. She didn't like her blood too thick.   
  
The vampire reached down and gave Willow's disorderly red hair an almost loving stroke. "Welcome to the family, my child," she whispered as her eyes changed from brown to yellow. She leaned down and sank her fangs deep into Willow's neck. The young woman whimpered softly.   
  
Walpurgis drank deeply. The power in the witch's blood added to its flavor, making it simultaneously smooth and heady. And...spicy?   
  
She pulled her head away. There was a tingling in her mouth and throat that quickly became a burning sensation, like she'd eaten a spoonful of black pepper. The feeling worked its way down into her stomach, becoming more agonizing every second.   
  
Walpurgis ran to the sink next to the hospital room's small lavatory and coughed up as much of the blood as she could. It hurt even more coming up than it did going down, but Walpurgis knew that whatever was in it would do less harm outside her than in.   
  
"What's the matter?" came a weak voice from the bed. "You don't like it hot?"  
  
"What..." Walpurgis sputtered, trying to get her breath, "what did you do?"  
  
Willow pointed to her IV. "The Catholic chaplain blessed all my saline for today. I've been getting nothing but holy water for fourteen hours." The girl's eyes narrowed. "Now find someone else to adopt."   
  
Just then, Walpurgis saw Willow's eyes flick towards the door. Sensing danger, the vampire turned and raised her shield blindly. There was a thunk as the sharp end of what was once Faith's spear hit the shield dead center, right Walpurgis' heart would have been had she not moved.   
  
In a single motion, Walpurgis drew her sword and slashed at Faith's midsection. Faith pulled her hips back and whipped her other spear fragment down at Walpurgis' head. The vampire raised her shield, blocking the blow.   
  
Walpurgis pressed forward, swinging her sword again and again. She circled and looped the blade in a series of cuts so fast and forceful that Faith was forced to retreat, using her sticks as best she could to ward off the rapid-fire attacks.   
  
Faith backed out the door to Willow's room. The vampire could not swing her sword in the narrow doorway, so she switched to thrusts, jabbing at Faith's face, legs, and torso, continuing to force the Slayer back.   
  
She's like a possessed sewing machine, Faith thought crazily. And I'm gonna be the one with the stitches if I don't get moving.   
  
Faith retreated faster, then turned and accelerated into a full run. This time, Walpurgis gave chase.  
  
-----  
  
Sarah felt the hands close tightly around her head. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut tight.   
  
Then the hands were gone. Instead, there was only dust raining lightly down onto her shoulders and neck. Sarah turned her head to see Giles standing behind her with a stake in his hand. Then Tara's voice cried, "Caecate!" and two vampires suddenly let go of and put their hands to their eyes, howling and staggering blindly away.  
  
The three vampires still holding onto Sarah let go and turned to face their new attackers. One punched Giles in the jaw and knocked him out, but the grin of satisfaction ran away from its twisted face as it felt the sharp point of a crossbow bolt penetrate its chest. The vampire caught a glimpse of Anya reloading in the stairwell doorway before the vamp collapsed into dust.   
  
Another vampire charged at Tara but was blindsided by Xander. The young carpenter pulled the vamp to the ground and staked it before it could recover.   
  
The third vampire threw a punch at Sarah's face. She backed up and blocked, then caught the monster's wrist, twisting it painfully and almost forcing the vampire to the ground. But the creature was too strong; it yanked its arm back so hard that Sarah was pulled head-first into the side of a parked car. She slumped to the ground.   
  
The vampire growled and looked up to see what enemies were left. Xander was still on the ground, and Anya was fumbling with her crossbow, but Tara was raising her arm for another spell. The vamp went for her, moving with supernatural speed. Its fingers were only inches from her throat when she cried "Pulsare!"   
  
There was a blue flash, and the vamp flew back as if it had been hit in the chest with a troll hammer. The vampire crashed head-first through the windshield of a parked sedan. Before the creature could extricate its head and shoulders from the mass of ruined glass, Tara ran forward and staked the vampire where it lay on the hood of the car.   
  
Xander and Anya, for their part, hurried over and finished off the two blinded vampires. Then the three Scoobies surrounded Jake, who still lay on the ground clutching his crotch. He looked up at them with a mix of pain and confusion on his face. "What the hell..." he began.  
  
"Well," Anya said with a hint of bitterness, "SOMEONE didn't tell us that her enhancement spell mainly enhances your ability to vomit."   
  
"An," Xander said, "when the vampire asks 'What the hell', you don't actually answer, you just stake him."   
  
"No way, little dude," Jake said. The vampire spun on his hip like a breakdancer and swept Xander's feet out from under him. As Xander fell awkwardly to the concrete, Jake made a grab for Tara's ankle. Tara pulled away, and Anya stomped on Jake's groin.   
  
"AAAAAAGH!" Jake screamed, grabbing for his abused genitals again. Xander climbed on top of Jake and jammed a stake into the vampire's heart, causing the fiend to stop screaming and look up at him.   
  
"That was totally uncool," Jake said as he crumbled into dust.  
  
"Okay," Xander said. "Let's get Giles and Sarah upstairs before we get busted for vandalizing the parking garage."  
  
-----  
  
Faith turned a corner and booked down the hall with Walpurgis only two steps behind. The Slayer ran straight for the doors at the end of the corridor, over which a sign read "Diagnostic Radiology".   
  
She sprinted through the waiting room and burst through a door marked "Staff Only". Behind the door was a long, dark room where the only light came from several computer monitors set in front of some large windows that looked in on other rooms. There was no one here at this late hour.   
  
Faith crashed through one more door, ending up in one of the windowed rooms. A huge, tubular machine sat in the center of the dimly-lit chamber like a giant beer barrel with a table rammed through its center.   
  
From here, there was nowhere to run. As Walpurgis pursued Faith into the room, Faith turned and held up her sticks. She circled backwards and around the machine, keeping a partial barrier between herself and Walpurgis.   
  
"All of this has gained you nothing," Walpurgis said. "I will defeat you, and then I will take the witch with me and make her drink until the holy water is flushed out of her. Then I will turn her, and she will sit at my right hand when I make this place my own."   
  
"Yeah, whatever," Faith said. "You wanna kill me? Get in line."  
  
"No," Walpurgis said. "I don't want to kill you. As I have said, kill one Slayer and another comes. I will only hurt you. Just enough, perhaps, that your body will never obey you again. Others will have to feed you, bathe you, change your diapers. Or perhaps," she said, lowering her voice, "you will simply never wake up."  
  
Faith stifled a gasp. Whatever computer whiz had hacked into Willow's hospital records for Walpurgis had also accessed Faith's.   
  
"Okay," Faith said, trying not to look rattled, "I'm figuring there's an 'if' coming up. Like you won't do any of this if I get out of town, or if I become your follower or your personal hairstylist or something. Which you could kind of use."   
  
"No," Walpurgis said. "There is no if. Only when." She swung her sword up and around so forcefully and unexpectedly that it knocked one of Faith's sticks right out of the Slayer's hand. Faith retreated further behind the machine as Walpurgis reached over the table with a wide horizontal cut. The Slayer danced backwards, away from the sword point; the blade smashed into the barrel-shaped structure that covered the rest of the table.   
  
And stuck there.   
  
Walpurgis pulled on the handle of the sword, but even her vampire strength could barely move it. And, the moment she put her shield arm against the machine for leverage, the shield became stuck as well, clinging to the barrel by the metal studs that dotted the shield's surface.   
  
"What is this?" Walpurgis breathed.   
  
"What?" Faith replied. "They didn't have big honking magnets in the Middle Ages?"   
  
Walpurgis was visibly irritated. "I do not need a sword to deal with you," she said. The vampire leaped up and over the top of the MRI machine and landed right in front of Faith.  
  
Go for the head, Faith thought. She swung her remaining stick at Walpurgis' temple, but the vampire was still too fast. She stepped inside the arc of the swing, caught Faith's wrist, and twisted it sharply. Faith cried out in pain and dropped the stick, but reflexively countered with a kick to Walpurgis' face. Walpurgis staggered back and raised her fists, waiting.   
  
The memory of her dream came back to Faith. You have to trust everyone, Buffy had said. Especially yourself.   
  
Faith backed off, giving herself time to think. I've been doing it all wrong, she realized. I've been so worried about not being able to take Walpurgis that I've been THINKING about what to do instead of just trusting myself to do it.   
  
The Slayer took in a deep breath and let it out. Her tense shoulders sank as Faith's body dropped into a lower, more relaxed posture. She looked Walpurgis in the eye.   
  
For the first time ever, the vampire looked concerned.   
  
With a yell, Faith leaped forward and attacked, throwing rapid combinations of kicks and punches that her years of training and experience had drilled into her. Walpurgis was suddenly on the defensive. What attacks she did make, the Slayer blocked and countered instinctively.   
  
Faith landed a roundhouse kick to Walpurgis' ribs, a spinning back fist to the side of her head, and a knee strike to the stomach, forcing Walpurgis to bend forward. The Slayer wrapped her arm around Walpurgis' neck and sank her whole body weight down, forcing the vampire to the floor.   
  
"How?" Walpurgis gasped. "No one is…so fast."   
  
"No," Faith agreed as she reached out and grasped one of her lost sticks. "No one is."   
  
She drove the stick straight through Walpurgis' spine, through the heart, and out the other side. Without a sound, Walpurgis collapsed into dust.   
  
-----  
  
Xander, Anya, and Tara had checked Giles and Sarah and found them to be perfectly alive. Xander volunteered to go upstairs and get somebody from the ER to come down and wheel them up for the usual round of neurological exams that were part of the now-familiar head trauma vacation package. Just as Xander was heading for the stairwell, however, the three Scoobies heard a familiar voice, male and somewhat high-pitched, from the garage entrance.   
  
"My goodness," the voice said. "You've really made a mess in here." Three heads turned to see a short, slender, gray-haired man in a black suit walking towards them with a familiar expression of mild bemusement.   
  
"Doc," Xander said.   
  
The whites of the small man's eyes went black as they turned on Tara. "No more magic today, dear," he said in an eerily conversational tone. "Why don't you take a nap?"   
  
Tara grabbed for a crystal in her pocket and began to shout some Latin phrase, but Doc's tongue snaked out and seized her around the throat, choking off her incantation. The powerful cord of muscle flung Tara sideways into a cement column and knocked her out cold.   
  
Xander pulled out a stake, the only weapon he had on him, and Anya glanced around for her crossbow. Doc walked calmly up to them and opened his left hand, which he had kept closed until now. In his palm was a small pile of silver-black dust. As Xander raised his stake and Anya prepared to make a dash for her bow, Doc blew the dust into their faces.   
  
"Now," the demon-man said, "come with me."   
  
"No!" Anya said firmly. "I mean, I'm not…I…" her voice trailed off. "Yes, master."   
  
"Yes, my lord," Xander said.   
  
"Good, good," Doc said, nodding with satisfaction. "We're going to go see a very old friend of mine."  
  
-----  
  
Faith lay on the floor of the MRI room. She had rolled out of the pile of dust that was once Walpurgis, but that was about all she could manage. Tara hadn't been kidding when she'd said that Faith would be weak when the enhancement spell expired.   
  
The Slayer heard the door open. She hoped that it was one of the Scoobies rather than, say, a security guard, to whom all the weapons and dust would be hard to explain. Faith looked up to see Xander and Anya walk through the door, followed by a small, older man she didn't recognize. Xander and Anya stared straight ahead while the man looked around the room.   
  
"Oh, dear," the man said when he spied the sword, shield, and big pile of dust on the floor. "This is very upsetting."   
  
"Who are you?" Faith asked.   
  
Doc ignored the question. "She said it was like Hell, you know. Being at the bottom of the ocean where nothing lives, not even the light. It took her a long time to reach the surface and get onto dry land again. That's not so hard when you don't have to breathe, but having to stay far enough under water to hide from the sun for twelve hours a day was a bit maddening for her, I think.   
  
"We'd been friends back in the old days, you see. That's why she came to me. She was very weak from all her time in the water, so I brought her here, to the Hellmouth. You'd be surprised how good this place is for a demon's health; Sunnydale is a Lourdes for the lower beings.   
  
"And now you've killed her. Just like they-" he gestured to Xander and Anya "-killed my god. So here's my solution: You'll die, and they'll be punished for your murder."   
  
Doc reached each of his hands into the opposite sleeve and pulled out a pair of long knives. He put one in Xander's hand, and the other in Anya's.   
  
"What is thy bidding, my master?" Xander asked robotically. Doc gave him an odd look.   
  
"Kill her," he said. "Both of you, kill her."   
  
Faith watched them approach. She was still very weak. If she used all her strength, she might be able to trip Xander up with her legs, and maybe even make him fall on Anya. But that would still leave her at the demon's mercy.  
  
"You really shouldn't have invested all your strength in one battle," Doc said with false sympathy. "Now you have nothing left for this one."   
  
"I have one thing left," Faith said.   
  
"Oh? And what's that?"   
  
"Trust."   
  
Xander suddenly pushed Anya aside. Then, before Doc could do more than look puzzled, Xander turned and shoved his knife straight into Doc's gut.   
  
The demon screeched inhumanly and grasped at the knife. Xander punched him in the face, making Doc fall halfway onto the MRI table. Xander grabbed Doc's collar and punched him again and again as he shouted, "I'm gonna say this one more time: No! More! BUTTMONKEY!"   
  
He threw Doc to the floor and grabbed Walpurgis' sword. With one stroke, Xander cut off the demon's head. The head rolled into the corner of the room.   
  
"This won't do at all," the head said.  
  
The face turned as black as the eyes and the head melted into a thick, oily substance that resembled nothing so much as hospital coffee. The body also liquefied, save for the black suit, which was soaked with the stuff.   
  
"Hoo," Xander said. "Glad I'm not responsible for THAT dry-cleaning bill."   
  
Anya had dropped her knife and seemed to be coming around. "Wha- what happened?"  
  
"Evil demon mind control," Xander said. "Always a good time."   
  
He reached his hand down to Faith and pulled her onto her feet. Xander and Anya let Faith put her arms around their shoulders for support.   
  
"I knew it," Faith said to Xander. "I knew you weren't really under his control. Not when you did that 'What is thy bidding' bit."   
  
"It's good to be well-versed in the classics," Xander said smugly.  
  
"But how did you do it?" Anya asked. "How did you keep that dust from affecting you?"  
  
"It wasn't easy," Xander admitted. "Remember when Dracula came to town and turned me into his spider-eating man-bitch?"   
  
Faith raised an eyebrow. That was a story she was going to have to hear sometime.  
  
"After that," Xander continued, "I started reading up on mind control spells at the Magic Box. Especially about how to resist them. The books all said that you need to find a thought – something that will stay in your mind no matter what – and play it over and over again in your head, so you block out anything else that tries to get in there."   
  
"But that's extremely difficult, Xander," Anya said. "What thought could you have that would be so hard to dislodge from your mind?"   
  
"'Everybody have fun tonight,'" Xander recited, "'everybody Wang Chung tonight.'"   
  
END CHAPTER 6 


	8. Epilogue

EPILOGUE  
  
Faith awoke from what might have been the best sleep of her life. She couldn't remember another morning when she had felt so well-rested.   
  
She yawned and stretched on Xander's convertible couch and looked at the clock on the VCR. It was one o'clock in the afternoon. Nonetheless, Faith could hear the shower going, and then the bedroom door opened and Anya wandered out in her bathrobe.   
  
Seeing Faith, Anya said, "Oh, good, you're awake." Then she turned towards the bedroom and shouted, "Xander! We don't have to be quiet anymore!" Without missing a beat, Anya turned back to Faith and said, "Want some coffee?"   
  
"No, thanks," Faith said. "Coffee makes you all awake and alert and stuff. I'm enjoying the grogginess."   
  
"Hmm," Anya said. "Maybe I'll skip the coffee too. My throat's still burning from Tara's vomit-magic."   
  
"Right," Faith said, glad to have avoided that particular side-effect of the enhancement spell.   
  
Anya had a glass of water while Faith made herself some toast. Xander soon emerged from the bedroom freshly dressed, his hair still a bit ruffled from his shower. Faith thought he looked kind of cute that way, but stopped herself from looking too long. Anya was being nicer to Faith than she had thought possible; there was no reason to risk spoiling it.   
  
"So," Xander said, "I forget exactly what you're supposed to do the day after you score a flawless victory over the forces of evil, but I think it involves swapping stories of our own heroism over monster-sized bowls of ice cream."  
  
"Oooh," Anya said. "Ice cream is both delicious and soothing to the throat. I vote for ice cream."   
  
"I second that," Faith said, raising her hand.   
  
"Motion approved," said Xander. "I'll call everybody. Maybe we can get some Cool Britannia for the Watcherly types."  
  
The phone rang. "Huh," Xander said. "They beat me to it." He picked up the receiver and said, "Harris' House of Hacked-Up Hellbeasts, how may I help you?"  
  
Xander said nothing more for almost a full minute, the smile fading from his face as he listened. Then he said, "We'll be here," and hung up.   
  
"What is it?" Faith asked.   
  
"Giles said the police came by his house this morning, asking all kinds of questions about you and Sarah. The cops didn't tell him how they knew you were here, but Giles thinks somebody at the hospital must have recognized you. Thank God Sarah was upstairs when Giles answered the door."  
  
"Oh crap," Faith said. She'd been so worried about vampires and demons over the last few days, she'd forgotten to worry about the fact that she was a fugitive.   
  
"Anyway," Xander said, "they're coming over here right now. After they make sure no one's watching them, anyway. Tara's gonna come too."   
  
Tara arrived within minutes, and the two Watchers were only thirty seconds behind her. Sarah looked particularly nervous, shutting the door rapidly and then peering out the window through the closed blinds, looking for unmarked police cars. When she was satisfied that no undercover cops were lurking outside, she said, "Faith, I'm afraid you need to pack your things."   
  
"What?" Faith said. "But we just got here!"   
  
"The police know we are in town," Sarah explained. "You can do little good if you are constantly having to watch out for them."  
  
"But…I was just starting to-!" Faith clenched her fists in frustration. She couldn't exactly describe what she had begun here in Sunnydale, but she knew she didn't want to leave it unfinished.  
  
"Everyone in this room is in danger of arrest as long as we remain," Sarah said firmly.  
  
Faith sucked in a breath, and for a few seconds, she looked like she was going to break something. Her fists tightened and her jaw clenched as she breathed angrily through her nose. Then, much to Xander's relief, she let a breath out through her mouth and murmured, "God damn it."   
  
"So what are WE supposed to do?" cried Anya. "We'll be right back where we were, stuck on a Hellmouth with no Slayer. What happens the when the next evil overlord shows up?"  
  
"Then we'll fight them," Tara said, making everyone turn and look at her. "Maybe we're not the best ones for the job, but we're the only ones. We'll make do."   
  
Faith couldn't help but smile a little at that. Then she turned to Sarah. "But where are we gonna go?"   
  
"I contacted the Council this morning," she answered, "and they believe we should leave the country for a while."   
  
"You know, I hear Cancún is in another country," Faith said.   
  
"We're going to Cyprus," Sarah said. Seeing Faith's look of confusion, she elaborated. "It's an island country near Greece. A village there is being plagued by a vrikolakas, a demon which crushes its victims to death while they sleep. The Council wishes you to deal with it. Now please pack up – Mr. Giles has kindly agreed to drive us to the airport in Los Angeles, where there will be fewer people on the lookout for you."  
  
"Join the Slayers, see the world," Faith sighed. She went over to the couch and began to gather up her few belongings.   
  
"I am certain, however, that we shall return at some point, when the 'heat' has died down a bit," Sarah said. "As Anya notes, this is the Hellmouth. I do not doubt that the Slayer will be needed here again."  
  
"I do hope so," said Giles. "I mean, I hope to see you again." He extended his hand. "It's been a great pleasure, Doctor."   
  
"For me as well, Mr. Giles," Sarah said, shaking Giles' hand and then continuing to hold it as each Watcher took a long look at the other.   
  
"Okay, can we flee the country now?" Faith said. "'Cause watching the old English people get flirty is weirding me out." Giles and Sarah separated, each too mortified to reply.  
  
Xander walked over and shook Faith's hand. "Bye bye, Faith. It's been…I don't know. But it could have been worse."   
  
"What a sweetheart," Faith replied with an ironic grin. "Be seeing you."   
  
Anya stepped up next to Xander and shook Faith's hand in her exaggerated, mechanical way. "Good bye, Faith," she said. "Thank you for not killing Xander or using him for your sexual pleasure."   
  
"Um, you're welcome. I think," Faith answered.   
  
Finally, Tara came up and hugged Faith. "Have a safe trip," she said.   
  
Anyone who was listening carefully might have heard the slight crack in Faith's voice as she said, "Take care, T."   
  
Faith and Sarah walked to the door and followed Giles out to his car, whose convertible top was up for the sake of discretion. Tara, Anya, and Xander waved as they drove away. Then Anya began to walk to her own car.   
  
"Where are you going?" Xander asked.   
  
"To get ice cream," Anya replied, as if Xander were a complete dolt. "Just because everybody else left doesn't mean we can't have some."   
  
Xander shook his head and chuckled a bit. He and Tara went back inside and sat down on the couch.   
  
"So…any word on Willow?" Xander asked.   
  
"She's fine," Tara said. "She'll be out in a couple of days."  
  
"Good."   
  
They both sat quietly for several moments, digesting everything that had happened over the last few days. Xander finally broke the silence.  
  
"How do you think she did it?"  
  
Tara looked at him, uncertain what he was asking.   
  
"Faith. How did she change so much?"   
  
"I don't know. Hard work, I guess. And luck. And good friends."   
  
"Yeah, that does help, doesn't it?" Xander said thoughtfully.   
  
"Yes," Tara said, looking up at Xander. "It does."   
  
END 


End file.
